


The Cure

by MostlyMoody



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Demons, Drama, Duelling, F/M, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Grey Wardens, Imprisonment, Love, Memories, Nightmares, Nobility, Orlais, Orlesian Balls, Orlesian Chevaliers, Orlesian Grand Game, Romance, Sex, The Breach (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyMoody/pseuds/MostlyMoody
Summary: Aedan Cousland - Warden Commander of Fereldan sets out to find a cure for the Calling in the far west. Set during the events of Inquisition.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Story will be told in third person, Wardens perspective for at least most it. Rated M for potential explicit violence, sex and my liberal use of swearing. Might have to up the rating later, not sure where the line is.   
> Don't know how many chapters this will have (ten-ish maybe), don't know how long it will take. First 'published' story so any thoughts and criticisms are welcome and much appreciated. =]

The iron greaves pressed into the deep layer of snow step after step, each one seemingly slower and heavier than the last one as he made it up the slope of the mountain. Snowy wind hailed from ahead brushing up against his chin and cheeks like sandpaper.

I should've kept the beard.

A thought rung out through his head. For once a lighthearted thought, something that made him forget the mistakes, the pain and cold; a welcome change from the constant regrets and squalor since Welbrook.

It didn't have to end that way. The fucking Tal'Vashoth! Sten had talked about them, warned me about them, and I should have listened. Outcasts from the Qunari society he told me, rebels and exiles who fail to adhere to the Qun. Never understood their philosophy, but I did understand Sten and he was a good man. The tal'vashoth swung too far in the other direction: lack of morality, greed, indulgence and cruel ambition; at least some of them did. The good ones, as it often happens, aren't enough.

It still makes my blood boil, and at this point the warmth of the anger is more welcome than the biting cold of the mountaintops and the misery nesting in my heart.

The snowstorm was picking up as the Warden continued onwards and up the mountain-range. If not for the heavy coat made of snoufleur skin and inlaid with lambswool for insular warmth, the frostbite would have settled in and taken over his body, leaving him cold and lifeless atop the lonely peaks. The thought of failure kept him going, the thought of never returning and never seeing those he loves kept him on his feet.

She would never forgive me if I died here. His thoughts veered to the bard, the woman that kept him from spiraling into a self-destructive pattern, the woman that kept him humble and careful, the woman he loved dearly. He was reminded of her piercing, icy blue eyes, her soft red hair and her smell, like nothing else on this world, it felt like home.

She would have me die of old age in a bed surrounded by family, reveling in our fortunes and regaling in the deeds of the past as everyone around us grows fat and content from peace.

On some level he wanted that too, but the drive for action had him making mistakes and that had him fixing those mistakes. It was almost a perfect cycle, that he was content with being stuck in. Eventually I will die with a sword in my hand, and another sword through my heart, there is honor in that, bravery. A beautiful end.

Yet I escaped the traitors as they butchered that village; men, women, children...even those animals wouldn't kill children. I hope. I did it for her, I stayed alive to see her again, to have us together just one more time if for a brief moment, and I would do it again.

Something felt wrong all of a sudden. Like that feeling you get when you walk by a window and the night is dark and quiet outside. The feeling of being watched. He slowly turned on one foot, the snow ever heavy under his feet. A dark, lone shadow slowly emerged on the washed out horizon between the grey snow storm above and the frigid white snow below. Like a drop of ink in a glass of milk the figure was washing out partly due to the relentless storm and partly due to the Wardens sight having to adjust to this single object after having to look ahead into a grey pandemonium of cold and nothing with the occasional stone formation looming over the lone warden.

He squinted and put up a gloved hand to the side of his face to block away the stinging snow from his eyes.

Another jackass out here looking for salvation or death?

"Shit!" He spit out as the realization hit him.

They fucking sent one of them after me. How paranoid are the bastards if they are willing to freeze their asses out here in the middle of nowhere just to make sure I am dead? I am the only one who knows what they have done, they probably think I am going to send word to Weisshaupt and hunt them down. They are sworn to the Grey Wardens now and the only way out is either to be cursed by taint or death.

He looked down for a brief moment in reminiscence. What was that morons name, Ser Godry, Gerry, Jory - that was it. Went for the blade after he saw what the recruitment actually means, what's at stake when you pick up the chalice. I couldn't blame him really, he had a family to go back to, he had something to lose.

What do these animals have to lose? Their right to pillage and kill for money. Freedom? They are like children that try to stick it to their authoritative parents and take it to the obvious extreme.

As the thought passed through his mind, he winced as the memories of his parents came flooding in, in quick flashes. Why is it always the horrible shit that keeps coming back?

The flicker of the figure in the distance snapped him back into the present. A deliberate, warrior like movement, purposeful. He has noticed me.

The Warden turned around facing upwards the mountain once again, shaking off the snow gathered in his cloaks sable fur and hood. He began trudging up the snow-filled slope of the mountain quickening his pace, every step growing ever heavier. This change of pace hit him hard as he started breathing faster and with more frequency, the warm air leaving his lungs stung his chest. Now he truly began to feel the effects of being up on this mountain for so long, for the first time. He could feel his face getting flushed with feverish heat as the body attempted to fight the frigid air, yet he continued up towards a large stone formation - a lonely monolith amidst the wasteland filled with emptiness. A reflection of the warden and the times he was stuck in.

Never thought I would miss fighting the darkspawn. As cruel and terrible they were you always knew their goals, their intentions. It was a clear cut war, we were the good guys, against all odds uniting Fereldan to fight a dark tide of monsters. Nowadays it all seems so unclear, so muddy. I feel like I am being blown around like a leaf from one corner of the world to another and they all look up to me for guidance and help. The Hero of Fereldan - a man who saved the world and lived to tell the tale. Never though I would be living in my own shadow.

He took another look at the stone pillar and the large washed out shadow it cast on the snow below.

I can take haven behind it, take my time, figure out how I am going to handle this.

The warden slipped behind the large rock out of the eyesight of his pursuer and dropped to one knee, panting heavily. He took off his heavy furred cloak and dropped it next to him, in a hurry he did the same with the backpack that was under the cloak, now only wearing his breastplate, coat and woolen scarf to protect from the cold winds.

He wasn't too far away. I'd give it a hundred feet, maybe less. Let's hope he is as exhausted as me. I don't plan on dying to a horned giant on some mountain in the middle of nowhere.

He pulled out his sword and leaned on it pacing his breathing, preparing for what's to come physically and emotionally. Back to the stone cold pillar, he lifted his sword and spun it a couple times in his hand, feeling it, molding with it. An extension of ones arm is what the sword is supposed to be, yet it felt sluggish and heavy, rusty. He hasn't used it in what seemed to be ages and it showed. Not something you want to feel in the moments that could decide your life or death. Fights always excited the Warden. The fear, the adrenaline the bloodlust all stirred something primitive within him. The tainted blood that flowed within him only amplified that. That power or curse grew with time no doubt, that is why he was out here - seeking a cure. Felt more like chasing an old wives' tale, but then again so was the Ashes of Andraste and it cured the old arl. Isn't it worth to try for hopes sake? That strand of hope is wearing thinner by the day.

This was just another fight - you either win or you die, there is no middle ground - that was something he had to accept at a very young age.

When Fergus and I went out to hunt down bandits pillaging the Cousland lands, there was this one kid about my age; sixteen or seventeen. He had no business wielding a sword even less so to raise that sword against the lord of the lands he was happily stealing from. Didn't think about what had made him to join up with the thieves and murderers, didn't seem relevant at the time. I was there to prove my worth to my father, to my brother to my family, that I was a dutiful and diligent son, someone worthy of my name and nobility. More than that I wanted to prove it to myself that I could be a warrior, a noble knight like the ones we heard tales about when we were young brats. I bashed the kids face in with the side of his own shield. When the blood from his malformed face started seeping into the mud below him as I kneeled over his lifeless body, I realized there was no nobility in fighting or war. You were either good enough or dead.

Forty feet away now.

Wardens breathing was slowing down, more calm, more purposeful. He could ignore the pain in his lungs, the cold sting against his skin, the numbness in his toes and fingers. No, use the pain, use the anger, bottle it up and unleash it against the sorry fucker who steps in front of you. Be a still field of grass that hides a viper within.

I could use some poison on the blade right about now, if it hadn't frozen two days ago. Never understood the value of poison until I met Zevran. That sly fucking elf. "One scratch of venom against their skin is enough to save you a whole lot of scratches, unless you're into that sort of thing." In that Antivan accent of his. Wonder where he is now. Probably chasing down some skirt or chasing down some crows. I still prefer a straight forward fight, nothing gets the blood pumping quite the same with the right person. Very much like sex that one.

His thoughts veered to the witch, the mother of their child, the woman he could never understand. As his thoughts stranded into a dark place, a light shadow passed over the hand resting on the blades hilt in front of him.

"Shit!" The Warden dove to the side as a weight dropped where he stood a moment ago. Scrambling to his feet out of the snow, he switched back to look and saw a qunari a standing tall, at least a foot taller, clad in boiled leather and a fur cloak, a sword in one hand and a Wardens shield in the other. Two large, black horns twisting back around his ears like a ram and a mean, ugly face filled with scars and purposeful fury. The look he has seen before many times in other faces, a look of a man who enjoys killing.

Blackhorn he called himself, back when I conscripted him. He seemed like a man who sought purpose in war, a purpose in serving a higher cause. When did that change or was I wrong all along? Never trust a mercenary unless you have more gold than your enemy, I heard my father say once. I learned that the hard way - unleashing a well armed Tal-vashoth group on defenseless villages. Fucking animals.

"Come here to die, qunari?"

"I am no qunari!" The giant spit out with equal disgust and anger.

I knew that one would get him. "You ever think your qunari friends send you out here so they can reap the spoils without you? You were one of the toughest in the group. You think they are waiting for you out there? You are a dead man."

"Warden always talked too much." He exclaimed as he took a step forward arcing down a sword slash the warden quickly parried. Quickly but not as quickly as he had liked. The impact rung out through his body and his sword arm twitched as he took a step back to retreat from another attack. Blackhorn surely felt that, felt the weakness. Like a wild dog he grinned and snarled as he took another swing from the other side. Another parry and another step back. And another, and then two more. Each one bringing the pain back into his lungs and bones with sharp bursts.

I can't keep this up forever, he will outlast me. Look at the bloody thing, more an ogre than man. He can just keep swinging with force and at some point my arms will give out. Fuck this cold! Whose brilliant idea was it to set up a village on the other side of this mountain range?

Another swing came down from the giant. This time the Warden spun through the snow to Blackhorns side and made a quick jab aiming for the side of his knee. The shield came crashing down on top of the blade and the tip grazed his leg instead. Drew some blood, but it's just a scratch. It wont slow down this grey slab of meat.

The warden carried on with the momentum and circled at the back of the giant, he quickly followed to face his opponent. "Getting tired yet big guy? Can't have been a pleasant road up here. Especially knowing it's all for nothing."

He did not respond, instead snarling furiously as he made another heavy downwards swing against the warden. He brought up the blade in defense just in time and the sharp sound the impact between two blades made got the blood pumping faster. One hand still on the sword, warden drew the dagger from his belt and went for his opponents heart. The giant surprised but vigilant shifted to the side and the dagger rested into his shoulder instead. He snarled in pain and the warden withdrew, letting go of the dagger as the giant made a rage filled swing where the warden once stood.

"You going to leave that there?" He snapped at the giant after taking a deep breath through his nose. Shield in one hand, sword in the other he will have to make a stupid decision in order to get that blade out. The way it looks from here I got him right in the joint of his shield arm. He won't be able to block that well from his left.

Blackhorn didn't respond, instead he charged the warden with a fierce battlecry. The snow almost didn't slow down the giants pace, he was now running purely on rage and bloodlust. If tipped over the edge he will make mistakes and one of them will be his end.

Warden sidestepped the charging bull to his left in an attempt to exploit his new weakness. As he was near the shield arm the giant spun to the right with a backhand swing and slammed his sword into the wardens breastplate with a loud clang that resonated to his core. A silent hum rang out through his ears. The warden snapped back to real time, pulled away as fast as he could, letting out a cough as the air escaped his lungs too fast at the impact. Wasn't a regular cough, it was wet, salty - blood. He touched the large impact scar on his breastplate to feel the damage as his leather gloves were tainted by a black liquid that turned red as the snowflakes touched upon it lightly. The cough came back with a strand of viscous blood dripping down his chin. He wiped it off quickly, still confused, shocked, blinking rapidly, darting his eyes to get his bearings.

I don't feel it. I don't feel the pain. I was cut across the chest and I don't feel the fucking pain.

The wound felt cold, unnatural and numb. The breathing got faster, losing the calm, chaotic, uneven. The thoughts raced through his head as the vision got a little blurry and the sounds started coming in faintly. All he could hear was his own broken breath and a muffled growl as a grey shadow moved towards him in his peripheral vision. He was still looking down, seemingly paralyzed.

It can't end like this, I made a promise. The shadow to his left shifted rapidly. Move, damn it! Warden shifted to avoid the attack, and it felt like the danger had passed for a moment until he felt a sharp sting between his neck and shoulder. For almost a second it felt like a shard of ice had been stuck inside his chest, a cold sensation engulfing his inside reminding him of what he is made of. It left his body thereafter and a numbness overcame his body. The only thing he could feel were his cold numb feet and his hand gripping the sword so tightly it burned.

A force grabbed him by the hair roughly and turned his head towards the giants ugly scar filled face as it grinned in satisfaction only another mans death could bring. He looked back into his eyes as a cold sting pierced his heart. Icy blue eyes; nightingales eyes that slowly faded away.


	2. The Stranger

Sixteen days on the sea without any docks along the way has been quite the journey. He dreamed of the familiar - the land, the golden fields of wheat, the high mountains and the soft summer air.

At least I've got my sea legs developed. The only time I was on a ship was as a kid when our family traveled across the Waking Sea to Kirkwall on family business. Never threw up more in a span of two days in my entire life. Fergus didn't let that go for weeks the bastard.

Warden felt a light smile forming on his face.

It was easy to get lost in melancholy in long travels like this. Eventually bad memories, terrors and nightmares begin surfacing. The Warden preferred to occupy himself to escape this. Battles and other peoples issues usually did the trick.

He looked towards the sun slowly sinking into the Waking Sea behind him as the ship drifted towards the dock. Fishermen and traders were packing up their nets, crates and barrels filled with fish and oysters. Weary and relieved workers headed home after a days work. Near dozen smaller fishing boats were docking along the Wardens ship, as the town grew closer, the smell of freshly cut fish and other seafood mixed in with the salty evening breeze filled the air. A man with a leathery face and ragged hair, sailor by the looks of his clothes, threw a rope from the pier aboard the ship. Eric - the ships captain caught it deftly and began tying a knot to fasten the ship to the pier. This ship was smaller than the one Couslands used. Carrying only a dozen people, it only required one decent sailor to head out and that's all we needed for this journey.

"How long was the travel? Your girl looks weathered by the sea." The sailor exclaimed while pulling the ship towards the pier. Obviously Orlesian, accent and all.

"Aye, it's her first journey. Sailed from Vigil's Keep two weeks without stop. Builds character." Eric shouted back, finishing up the knot.

"Vigil's Keep?" Sailor looked at the Warden, who was leaning on the ships railings looking at the exchange between two men. He wasn't wearing his Warden armor in hopes to slip by most people and not get hassled while he was here. It's been several years since Vigil's Keep was officially considered to be a Grey Warden castle.

"Amaranthine actually. We were sent by the Arl to secure some trade deals." Aedan quickly intervened. Exchanging a look with Eric, who by now had a slightly nervous look on his face.

The sailor chuckled "Well, Ameral is a fair city with good trade. I am sure you will find what you look for."

The ship was fastened to the pier by now. Eric pulled down the sails and went to his cot to grab his gear.

Can't forget my trusty squire.

He approached his cot and listened in for a while, nothing, then knocked on the door. A muffled belch sounded out from behind the door followed by some coughs.

"If you are quite done, we have arrived. The land calls for you young one."

"Sorry ser. I am on my way." A young lads voice from the other side of the door exclaimed, tired and apologetic.

A minute later he exited his cabin, hair untidy, two large bags over his shoulder, still wearing the same clothes he came aboard on but worn down. He looked at Aedan awaiting response, at the ready.

"You look _terrible_ Devin. Were you fighting a genlock in that cot?" Warden asked sardonically taking one of the bags off the kids shoulder.

"Very funny... ser." He snapped back looking down following the warden as they began moving to get off the ship.

"Are you hungry, we could stop by the tavern grab some stew." Aedan inquired.

This time the squire only grunted in displeasure.

I do so love torturing the kid. He has a good heart but there are some attitude issues. No wonder, he grew up same as me, but saw far less violence.

The sailor was helping with the three travelers baggage off the ship. He went to shake hands with Aedan.

"Remy." He said with a smile on his face and hand stretched forward, awaiting a response.

Aedan grabbed his hand, calloused, leathery. Hard working mans face. But his face and eyes had some mischief in them, or was it just that Orlesian smugness. Hard to form opinions of people this fast.

"Aedan. Thanks for the help."

"If you are looking for a place to spend the night, Siren's Rest is our finest tavern."

They parted ways on the pier and went into the town. Some people were already celebrating the end of a work day on the lantern lit streets, bustling on the colored brick pavement. The Orlesian chatter sounding throughout the streets. Excitement, arguments, trading all going on at the same time. Reminded Aedan of Denerim, but more Orlesian and more alien to him. He has been to Val Royeaux with Leliana once, but that was a large bustling and glamorous city filled with ladies in extravagant dresses and men in even more flamboyant outfits. The whole city seemingly attempting to one up itself in every possible way, yet there was something sinister behind it all, chaotic. The bard thrived in that environment, she loved the chaos of intrigue and the simpler pleasures of fashion and prestige. This little Orlesian town was more Aedans speed, tightly knit, charismatic and cozy.

They made it to the tavern not far from the port itself. A blue wooden building, two stories tall with a clay roof. The sign over the front door displayed a lewd painting of something that resembled a woman. Not the artist best work surely. The bustle of drunken merriness was emanating from within as the lights and shadows danced through its windows.

The kid was getting visibly nervous. Young squire is a little shy. Difficult to be the second son sometimes, often feels that a lot is expected from you, duty, obedience. You can either fight it or accept it. I fought it; young Devin accepted it. He will make a shrewd man one day, not sure if he will be a fighter though, it will certainly take a bit of pushing.

He slapped the squire on the shoulder "Hang in there, you'll live through this day yet."

No response. Oh the angsty teenage years.

They made it into the tavern. It looked as crowded and merry as it sounded from the outside.

"Get us a room for the night Eric, won't you?" He looked at the captain, handing off the bag to his squire.

"Aye, Commander."

"And don't call me commander from now on. We are traders from Amaranthine _remember_?"

"Ser, one room for us all?" The squire spoke up for once.

"Aw, Devin how shall I suppress my lustful urges for you." Aedan quipped back.

Turned red like a beet in an instant. Far as I know young Devin has never been with a girl, the kid is sixteen. If I remember right I had laid with the handmaidens daughter at Highever when I was his age. Darcy; you never forget the first time.

"Not to worry, plenty of lasses in the tavern. We will make a man out of you yet."

"I'll bring up the bags to the room." Devin quickly proclaimed and made it to the stairs, excusing himself in between the drunken patrons.

"Don't be so hard on the kid eh, Comm... Ser." Eric quietly said, while paying the innkeep for the rooms.

"Nothing builds character quite like poking banter Eric. You are a sailor, don't they teach you that?"

"Aye it builds character, for a younger you perhaps. The kid is shy as a mouse. You have kids ser Aedan?"

"You know I don't Eric." It was easier to deny, than to explain Morrigan.

"Well, take it from someone who does. If you push the shy ones, it will only make them bitter and resentful." The way he said that hit hard to the mans home, it was obvious. There was sadness and regret. Eric was near his fifties, definitely has at least a couple of children, a wife. Best not to pry though.

"Come now Eric, he is not my child. In ten years he will remember me as that asshole knight who made snarky remarks and taught him how to fight."

"Aye, you are right no doubt." He looked down to grab the bag off the floor, next to the counter.

"Why don't you go see to it upstairs. Poor Devin must be just now realizing he doesn't know which room we bought."

Eric complied, while the Warden sat down at the nearest empty stool and ordered a drink.

He sat at the bar, mingling with the patrons and the bartender, finding out as much as possible about the town, surroundings and most importantly his reason for being here. Had to be cautious about what was asked, but most conversations about the Wardens and the taint ended up in Montsimmard - where the Orlais Warden headquarters were located. Nothing new here, that was his first destination anyway. There was word of the current Grand Enchanter having been a Warden, and then suddenly not. No doubt the mages are busy with their bloody rebellion. Hard to defend the poor bastards after they blow up a Chantry and take countless lives.

If I had been more vigilant, more present, I could have kept Anders in Amaranthine. He was changing by the end of it, I noticed it, before he just up and disappeared one day. I chalked it up to the burden of being a Warden, cowardice perhaps, never thought he would start a fucking war.

Feels like I lost a lot of people, maybe got lost myself along the way.

The sun had set two hours ago, the tavern was still lively although a little dimmer. Warden noticed Remy - the man from the pier chatting and laughing with some sailors and knights on the other side of the tavern. Not knights - chevaliers, a fancy name for a killer of the same stripes. Eric was drinking with another group of sailors, exchanging stories by the looks of it. Devin nowhere to be seen, in the room reading some of his books no doubt. No reason to bother the kid for today.

He reached over the counter with the empty wine cup, trying to get the bartenders attention. At the same time someone heftily dropped on the empty stool to his left with a heavy, tired exhale.

"Flask of ale big man." A feminine voice, Free Marcher accent sounds like, tired but zesty. Seemed familiar.

Warden turned his head to look at the dusky woman sitting next to him. Hair black and brown gathered under a blue bandanna hanging over her back and shoulders, whispy and thick. She didn't lack for jewelry; golden disc earrings a golden piercing under her lower lip and an ornate, heavy golden choker adorning her neck. She wore an embroidered, brown leather coat, akin to a sea captain's and a white tunic under it. Thigh tall black leather boots. All very form fitting, not hiding her strengths, this one. How could you forget her, the Rivaini pirate queen herself. The Warden chuckled lightly and turned back to hand his cup to the bartender for a refill.

"Didn't your mother tell you it's not polite to stare at a lady?" She quipped sarcastically at her bar partner.

"Would that if there was one."

"Oh-hoho." the Rivaini mockingly laughed "I've had a real shitty day, and you might be just the thing I beat down to bring my spirits up." Wasn't lying about that first part. Still keeping up the act of a wounded damsel, she must be really looking for a fight. I'd rather present her a friendly face.

"You'll run out of taverns to ruin one day if you keep this up Isabela."

"How do you know my bloody name? You one of Gerricks lap dogs?" She quickly got defensive and her hand went for the dagger at her waist.

Warden quickly grabbed her wrist "Fucks sake Isabela, a little jumpy these days." In a quieter tone, masked by the bustle of the drunken tavern crowd he followed "Aedan Cousland? The guy who ended the Blight ring a bell?"

Isabela stared at him for a while still holding onto the blade, inspecting the man in front of him, scanning him and her memory. Then she brushed off his hand on her wrist and went for the flagon of ale on the counter.

"Andraste's ass." a relief washed over her as the words escaped her "It's the _beard_ \- it threw me off." she said in a much more lighthearted tone than before. Half a smile on her face, sadness in her eyes, barely able to feign happiness.

"You haven't changed at all on the other hand." Aedan responded.

"Ha, charming. Now I remember, it's all starting to come back." Isabela exclaimed coyly, taking a drink of ale.

"What brings you out to a humble Orlesian village?"

"Streak of bad luck." She clearly wasn't interested in sharing more than that, wasn't going to stop the Warden from trying.

"Something to do with this Gerrick character?"

"Shut up." Not aggressive, more dismissive and filled with contempt. This is a fresh wound. If I were any other schmuck she would have knocked me flat on the ground right there.

"Come on Warden, my life is boring compared to yours. What are you up to these days?"

He looked around to see if anyone reacted to her calling him that. Thankfully no worried looks, yet. "Call me Aedan. Your life is quite the riot I hear. Qunari, templars, mages the whole deal."

"Not you _too_? I swear, people need to stop reading that damn book. You do know half of it is straight bullshit and the other half is wildly exaggerated. All written by a dwarf who is as good at writing as being a responsible citizen."

"You can rest easy then, I haven't read it. I have my own sources and they don't tend to exaggerate. Although you got me interested in the book now."

She snorted, first genuine laugh out of her. "Your loss..." She looked at him and continued in a mocking secrecy "... _Aedan_."

They continued talking and drinking, inquiring each other about the time after their meeting in Denerim, both avoiding conversations of the more trying times. This must be what it is to talk to someone else who doesn't share their grievances and doesn't reveal their scars. He could sense her pain though, they were of the same cloth that way - that was evident from their first meeting. Perhaps Isabela could sense his wounds the same way. She would be a shitty duelist if she couldn't, and the Warden knew she was anything but.

He considered bringing up Anders. He wanted to know how he was by the end, was there still any of the Warden left he knew. He had heard reports of course, but Isabela knew him, perhaps even called him a friend. Decided against asking, some things are better left forgotten.

Sticking to telling stories and anecdotes and talking shit in general worked for them both at this time, alcohol helped. She was openly laughing now, forgetting her initial worries and whatever had her attention before, so was the Warden.

Isabela brought up their more intimate times back in Denerim. Quite a memory she has, never heard anyone recall a sexual encounter this vividly. More of the old Isabela he knew was coming out, what with the painfully obvious sexual inuendos. Maybe she knew what they both wanted or needed.

Eric had gone upstairs, so has Remy and the knights he was talking to, most patrons were still merry. Couldn't have been past midnight yet, time gets fuzzy after several cups of wine and ale. How many? Who's counting anyway. Isabela and Warden slipped into the cellar - "That's where they keep all the good stuff." Hand in hand, like a couple of teenagers on the run from the world.

Aedan's vision was a little blurry by now, walking was not an issue but the surroundings were almost feeling numb, not quite with a dusky pearl leading the way down the stairs. Her swaying hips and enchanting strut did nothing to discourage the Warden. The bottom of the stairs creaked under the pirates boot, she looked behind past warden and giggled, and he followed the Siren's call.

\---

He was walking familiar stone halls, candle sconces dimly lighting the way. Despite the soft flames, the hall was cold and faint almost devoid of sound and warmth.

I am home, yet it feels far away. I am a ghost walking through an effigy of a memory.

A distant voice was calling him, sweet and familiar, motherly, echoing through the hall ahead of him. He took step after step, slowly almost disconnected, not sure why he was moving forward. The voice called him further into the halls.

"Aedan." The voice echoed softly along the stone walls and through the still candle fires.

Another voice joined in, a mans, calm and affectionate yet distant and melancholic "Pup. Come forward."

He walked forward, towards the voices like a moth drawn to flame. Above him was a nights sky. No stars. He walked towards the voices behind a door that he remembered lead to the pantry, he still remembered the castle despite having not been there for so long. The regret was always there, not even Howe's blood could quench it.

As he moved closer to the door the voices grew quieter with every step. He looked behind him, the candles on his passed trail had extinguished, just dark stones and black nothing beyond it.

Only one way to go.

Warden went for the door-knob, it was cold to touch, as if no man had touched it before. He stood there, for how long he could not tell, mind wandering just staring at the handle. There was doubt but also something else, something distant clawing at the back of his head.

Just open it you fucking coward.

Rage welled up in his chest. He turned the handle and entered the room swiftly. Not a room, a stairway leading downwards. This was never here, this was not the place he grew up in. The steps were almost natural, carved from the passage itself and the walls resembled more a tunnel dug up in a hurry. In a sconce was a torch, metal made lit with a blue foreboding flame. Beyond it the downwards passage was dark, barely visible.

He touched the door behind him and turned. It was there no more, just a cave wall.

Now there really is no other way.

Warden turned back to face the torch and picked it up, the path down seemed dark. He stepped ahead on the mismatched stone steps as the passage curved to the left as he moved on.

That clawing at the back of his mind grew clearer. Almost a whisper, soft and deliberate. The voice became clearer as he moved down the hall, but now it was of a language he did not speak. It was strange, almost melodic but sharp. The voice reminded him of Mother Mallol reciting prayers under her breath but more deliberate and imposing. It was as enchanting as the calls of his parents, speaking through his blood, familiar. Unlike his family this call rang through his blood in an obtrusive manner it resonated through his mind and body yet he could not stop walking towards its source.

I see a door at the end of it. How long have I been walking, I can't remember.

He approached the door, it had no handle, made of some kind of steel, black and gleaming. There were textured carvings all over the door but not carved with any tool, they looked natural as if they had taken shape throughout years on their own, immaculate and clean. Hieroglyphs of a strange language covered the door in arcs and spirals, melding in and out of the scenes depicted on it. The scenes depicted on it were bizarre, nothing like he has seen before. It was just like reading a different language, they made no sense, just shapes. Some looked human, some animal perhaps. He inspected them as the blue light of the torch moved and danced across the crevices and inlays of the carvings. As he moved the torch the scenes on the door almost moved themselves, shimmering like a foggy illusion in his peripheral sight, yet he was looking right at it.

As the Warden was enchanted by the doors surface, it shifted with a sharp screech and moved an inch backwards, opening. He put his hand to it; like steel but colder and oily. He moved his hand away to look at it and rub his fingers, no residue on them. He put it back on the door and pushed as the heavy iron door moved slowly. Beyond it a pool of black water glistening with the blue light of the torch. It ran right from the edge of the doorfram all across the outside wall, still, no ripples or current. He looked below and saw no reflection of himself, just the torch floating in the air.

Where have I come? I have not been here, but it seems familiar.

He put his torch up higher and in front of him as far as he could without falling in the water. Looking ahead was only the dark ever-still water and beyond the light of his torch - nothing.

I must go back, return to where I began. My home, where is my home.

Suddenly he lost his balance. Feeling of falling fear washed through his toes to his head. He opened his eyes.

\---

"Fuck." The Warden recoiled staring up at a wooden ceiling, feeling the cloth beneath him. He rubbed his eyes, getting up to a sitting position, now noticing the white sheets wet and messed up in chaotic bunches, his body covered in cold sweat as if from a fever.

A feverish dream for sure. Andraste's ass, what was that all about? Almost like the dreams of the Archdemon I had during the blight as he spoke to us. This was different; no darkspawn, no archdemon. I've felt the calling before, it is why I am here, but it was different those times. I wandered the deep roads in my nightmares, rarely but it happened, could have been something else, could have been I was sensing the darkspawn below if they were close enough. Wardens sensed them in the present usually, maybe not, but definitely not as surreal as the dream I just had. The calling sets in thirty years for most Wardens. If this was the real deal then I am shit out of luck; I've been a Warden just for a dozen years. Just a dozen, huh.

He put his feet on the floor wiping off the sweat from his chest and face with the bed sheets. He remembered last night now, not too clearly since he had quite a bit to drink but clearly enough to have good memories of the vigorous activity with Isabela.

I do wish that sweat was less of the cold, dreadful, nightmare type. He looked back across the bed, she was not there. Just the slightest indentation of where she was in the bed, he touched the sheets, they were cold. She had left quite a while ago. He looked outside the window, the sun was just above the sea horizon, in the distance dozens of ships were sailing out into the waters.

He rubbed his eyes again. He smelled a flower. He looked at the bed-table. A small white lotus lay there on top of a piece of paper. He picked both up, looking at the paper, it said: "I've got some things to take care of and knowing you and your damsels, couldn't stay for the morning. Sorry for using you, but I think we both got what we needed. Good luck on whatever it is you are looking for." and a lipstick kiss mark on the bottom.

"How romantic." he chuckled.

His face soured as he thought of the bard.

Feel like I betrayed her. Does it matter to her anymore, I wonder. We both chose duty over a simple, comfortable life in a manor somewhere on the Waking Sea.

He wished she would be there to yell at him, say something hurtful, just to hear her voice.

Last letter was from her telling me to come back to her. Not to worry of the calling, not to worry of the death that will eventually take me. I was comfortable knowing I will die one die with a blade through my chest, comfortable in knowing it would happen but not when. The calling was like a poison, seeping in the mind and mocking you. You will die.

I will die on my own bloody terms.

She followed her faith, her Chantry. She knew I did not feel the same way of the Maker as I did but I think we learned to separate it eventually, accept our views on it. In the end it still falls down to beliefs we hold. I was still a Warden and she was still the agent of the Divine.

I need a bath.

Clothes and armor on, sword at his side, the Warden made it out of the room. One door ahead to the left was Eric locking it up. He waved towards him as he locked at the Warden emerging from the room.

"Well shit, now we know the source of the bloody noise for sure." Eric said almost mockingly "I owe the kid a gold piece."

"Not sure if I should be happy that the kid has so much faith in me or be saddened you have so little. A bittersweet moment really, can't place it."

"Aye, well how about you ponder your feelings at breakfast, kids treat today." They shared a laugh and made it downstairs to a fairly empty tavern. Only a couple traders or travelers scattered around. Most merry-makers must have been locals, went back to the safety of home and warmth of their hearth. One poor sod was still passed out under a table. Great night for him.

Devin was at a table with the backpacks dropped next to his feet. The kid filling up on some food, two other dishes awaiting on the table. Diced sausage, scrambled eggs, grated potatoes some small tomatoes with greens mixed in and a cracked crabs pincer. As they came closer, it smelled better than it looked.

Devin looked up "Mownin." he quickly emptied his mouth. "Sorry. Morning ser."

"Morning to you too Devin. I believe it's your lucky day. Cough it up Eric." He slapped the sailor on the shoulder, as he pulled out a coin sack and flicked a gold coin at Devin. He caught it and pocketed it.

"I believe it was your lucky day. Ser." He was looking down into his tray but Aedan could hear the smile.

Warden wheezed sarcastically, "Young Devin's got jokes _and_  the smarts. How he has not got himself a castle and a wife by now is beyond me."

"Aye shrewd bugger of a squire you got there. Played me into a bet like a fool that I am." Eric sat down to get to his meal. Aedan followed.

The group didn't talk much during the breakfast, Eric was too mannered and stoic, Devin too shy and Aedan was taught to not speak with mouth full as a kid. Even as a soldier and warden some teachings can't be escaped. The morning was quiet, most sailors already had departed to sea, some light bustle from bartering traders outside. Witnessed a scene as a fuming woman barged into the tavern and began kicking the drunk laying under the table in the other corner of the tavern. Some angry in Orlesian. Pulled the wreck of a man up slung his arm over shoulder and made it out of the tavern, red with anger and shame. Didn't forget to shout some obscenities at the barkeep on the way out. That's a keeper.

The food was finished, the band ready to leave after making plans to follow the road to Montsimmard, to the Warden Keep.

"Trusty squire! I have a quest for you: you are to purchase us two horses." He counted some gold coins and handed them to Devin. "On your way now, shoo."

The kid nodded and left the tavern.

"Just _two_ eh?" Eric inquired once the squire was out.

"Only hired you to bring me across the sea Eric. You delivered. The ship is yours now."

Sailor thought for a while, "Didn't ask for no ship Warden. You already paid me."

"It's not a _handout_ Eric. You will return to Amaranthine, to your family, work the seas, contribute to commerce. You got two ships now, maybe get your son to work it."

"Appreciate it Warden." He thought again and smiled. "Aye haven't seen my family in a while. Never named the ship though."

"It's yours now, all up to _you_. Never been good at naming things. Hell, named my sword 'Vigilance'. Don't think whoever stole it will ever guess it was a Warden blade."

Eric chuckled. "Never been good at it myself. I'm sure it'll come to me as I sail her back through the tides."

The two spoke some farewell words drinking their whisky coffee. Eric told the Warden of his family, spoke of some mistakes he made, nothing specific, everyone has those. He hasn't spoken much of them before and even now not much he wanted to share, private man, Aedan could respect that. Regretful but hopeful.

Devin was back with two horses in tow, as Aedan and Eric shook hands outside of the tavern.

"Be good kid and don't listen too much what Commander says. Most of it is hogwash." Eric spoke to Devin lightheartedly.

"Thank you for taking us across the sea ser."

"Not a ser and I'm just doing my duty to the arl. Farewell."

He left and both knight and squire made it onto their newly saddled horses. One black with brown patches along its back, the other a cream color with a white mane. Both strong horses, different than Fereldan breeds, more lithe with saddles ornate with lion engravings on the leather, probably salvaged and cleaned from a battlefield in the past. Aedan mounted the lighter horse, while Devin with some difficulty got on the dark, spotty one.

"They got names?" Warden asked.

Devin pulled out a parchment rushingly from the pocket. "Uh yes ser. The spotty one is..." he looked closer at his own writing. "Champion de Falaise, and the white one...mmm... Toque Blanche." He did his best to do justice to the Orlesian pronunciation. It all sounded the same to Aedan. Some passing by girls giggled to each other as they heard the bastardization of their language. Devin blushed at that and folded the piece of paper back.

"Orlesians." Warden told Devin humorously, as if that one word would explain the situation perfectly. Squire nodded in agreement and they trotted towards the town gates at once.

They passed along the morning lit houses, quiet and peaceful. Children playing along the streets, wooden swords in hands chasing each other. The smell of home-cooking seeping from the windows.

They reached the gates soon enough, made of white stone, portcullis raised, two guards with pikes standing atop and two more at the entrance.

"Where are you headed to gentlemen?" One of the gatekeepers asked looking at Aedan, lowering his pike to block the horses passage.

"Montsimmard. Anything to look out for?"

"You sound Fereldan, so look out for stirring any trouble. Our Empress and Duke Gaspard are in open civil war as you _should_ know. They shouldn't trouble a..."

"A merchant." Aedan finished his sentence.

"A _merchant_ from Fereldan. Have a safe journey gentlemen." He lifted the pike back and the two riders passed by into the Heartlands.

What he read about the region was far from what he saw here now. Supposedly one of the richest and wealthiest regions of Orlais it almost seemed desolate. The war has come here first. Securing the plantations, orchards, baiting the Empresses army out into the open from behind the safety of castle walls, taking noble hostages from lightly defended manors.

Across the fields in the distance he could see bellows of thick black smoke, five or six stacks. Marching soldiers, stragglers, horsemen, deserters. It was chaotic out there, the roads seemed more safe. Some soldier escorts passed them by in a hurry, didn't bother them. The Warden had dressed appropriately, no excessive weaponry or armor, just a sword and leather armor underneath the surcoat for protection. If they rifled through their bags, might be a different story then.

They were coming up to a narrow path on the road sloping down, with trees arching over it, like a nature-made hallway. He head horses ride in the distance not too far behind, two maybe three, must be more scouts.

As they trotted down the slope they saw an armored horse in front of them. Sky blue cloth over its back legs, adorned with three golden flowers. A man was crouching next to the animal, armored, looked like a soldier or a knight. He was rifling through a backpack next to another knight, that one dead, two spears sticking out of the mans chest.

The hooves behind them grew closer every second. Devin shot the Warden a worried look, as if to ask for direction.

"Be calm. They are just scavengers, looking to take a toll for passage." Well armed scavengers. Either very bold for stealing another man's coat of arms or deserters from the army perhaps. Which side though, not sure.

Warden trotted ahead to meet up with the man in front. No point in escaping now, riders behind us, narrow passage ahead and the horses won't make it up the dirt slope into the forest. Devin was following just behind, not as confidently but following Aedans lead.

Horsemen behind were some twenty feet behind now, slowing down. Aedan glanced back: three men, all knights, plate armor and heavily armed. Wearing the same colors as the man in front, three golden flowers on blue.

The man in front stood up from the bag, sword in right hand, left hand raised signaling the travelers to stop.

"Easy." Aedan whispered to the horse as it was getting slightly restless at the sight of an armed man. It slowed down. The soldier in front was in front of the horse now, three knights behind stopped as well, their horses pacing in place restlessly.

The man in front said something addressing the other knights in Orlesian petting Aedans horse to calm it.

He turned back to Aedan. "Where are you headed?" Thick orlesian accent and a sharp voice to go with a face with sharp features, narrow cunning eyes, short cropped black hair and a clean trimmed beard. Hasn't been involved in the fighting around here, no blood, no armor dents, he was out here for something else.

Aedan responded: "Just a merchant on my way to Montsimmard."

The knight chuckled "Oh yes, what was it? A humble merchant from Amaranthine."

Now that was a bad sign. A sudden realization swept over him as he looked back to inspect the other three knights. Same men chatting with that sailor - Remy in the tavern. That bloody windbag.

Aedan put his hands up coyly "You got me, I am a Warden. I am however travelling to Montsimmard, is there an issue with that?" Better be on the guard, not sure why they stopped me if they do know who I am.

The dark haired knight in front of him looked visibly annoyed at that response. He gave another knight a stern look and Aedan heard three swords leave their scabbards behind him. He instinctively grasped the hilt of his own blade, but the knight interrupted, putting the blade to horses throat as it recoiled, unable to go anywhere as it was held by the man in front.

"Not so quick."

"Ser!" He heard Devin say softly and worryingly. He looked back to see the young squire atop his horse, holding onto the hilt of his sword, motionless, frozen like a statue with another blade to his throat.

The knight in front continued "Do you take us for fools? You think you can just announce yourself and pass on your merry way? We know you do not head to Montsimmard Warden."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Aedan responded in confusion. This did not make sense. They are hunting a Warden? On whose orders?

"If you are headed to Montsimmard as you say, we will take you there and see you to the _gallows_ as well. Lay down your weapons or we will gut your friend and _you_ if we must."

I could cut the four of them down. My horse will fall, no doubt but they are slow. The one in front hasn't seen much battle a lordling pretending to be a warrior. No, Devin will die. A blade to his throat, neither I nor him are as fast as to stop that.

Swallow your pride, let them take you to Montsimmard, that's where you are headed anyway. Maybe clear it up on the way maybe not, once I reach the Wardens it will clear up on its own. The bloody Orlesians are hell-bent on seeing me hang, apparently.

"Fine," Aedans face showed contempt, it hurt to surrender. "I will come willingly, put the blades away."

The knight winced and narrowed his eyes inspecting the Warden, then took the blade off going back to saddle his horse. Another blade tipped Aedans right side, he recoiled. One of the three riders was right next to him. "No sudden moves Warden." A females voice, rough and coarse.

The leader of the band, now on horse back approached him on the left side. Pulling out Aedans sword he said with contempt and calculating concern in his voice "I don't know what you are planning here Warden, but we will not play it as you wish." He followed in Orlesian, the other knights laughed at whatever it was he said, the female knight poked his side again, he turned to look back at her.

"This might sting a little." Voice from his left followed by a sharp metallic knock to the head. The sound vibrated through his head, the vision blurred in an instant.

"Commander..." A dim shout from behind, slowly fading out. He lost balance, watching as the world spun and went black.


	3. The Prisoner

The sun has been scorching for most of the day but now it had hid behind thick rain clouds in the distance, providing some much needed reprieve. Aedans wrists were still sore and burning from the tight ropes strapped behind his back. Every time the horse took a trot ahead a jolt of pain rushed through his head. The blood above his eye had dried fast in the bright sun.

Stripped of weapons, bound, surrounded by Orlesians. I might be alright with this in a certain context.

He got their names listening to them speak to each other. Some in Orlesian some in Common tongue. The leader, they called him - Constance De Roche. By his last name and formal address most of the time, must be a lordling as Aedan suspected; posture, arrogance, entitlement it was all worn on his sleeve.  
One of the knights in his employ a tall, lanky, tanned man. No hair, no beard and a stoic, somber face. They called him Michel. Didn't talk much, when he did speak up he expressed concern of Montsimmard and their pace of travel. Second knight was often by Michel's side, conversing in Orlesian. Michel stayed quiet throughout the conversations letting his friend do the talking. The chatty one was a bulky, brutish man; strong jaw, a mustache and untidy light hair hanging over his eyes and ears. This ones name was Basier. Big mouth on this one, made some jests at the Warden as they traveled with their bound prisoners. Wonder if he would have as big of a mouth if I had a blade at hand.  
The last knight a woman, although it would be hard to tell at first glance. Athletic, built like a man almost. Face didn't do any favors to show her femininity - rough, strong chin and jaw and that constant bitter look on her face, like she was keeping a slice of lemon under her tongue. Thin, short, brown hair slicked back. Not the most inviting personage, even in this group. She was, however, the only one to address their leader by his first name while he called her by hers - Roberta. The two other men, mockingly called her Bella. She didn't seem to mind, or at least her look of contempt never changed. She was also the only one to have her hand on her hilt at all times, always at the ready and Aedan could feel her vigilant gaze as she trotted few paces behind.

His squires horse was right next to his, trotting in a sad unison, surrounded by their captors. Devin was constantly looking down, afraid to look at any of the knights or the Warden.  
"Devin, if you distract these three knuckleheads I could disarm and knock out the lass pointing a blade at me seeing..."  
"Shut it Fereldan dog!" Constance intervened from up front.  
Aedan continued, "...seeing as they don't seem too bright."  
"I said shut it!" He turned his head to look at the Warden this time, flustered.  
Aedan turned to the knight this time "You do know you are in for a surprise once we reach Montsimmard."  
He laughed in response "Oh, well in that case let us unbind you and send you on your way. I am sure you will be no trouble at all."  
"Ooh, sarcasm. You know they say sarcasm comes easy to intelligent people. You must be an outlier."  
Basier let out a hearty chuckle but quickly stopped when Constance shot a nasty look at him.  
"Looks like your men don't respect you much. Why don't you unbind me and put a sword in my hand. You Orlesians take duels seriously don't you. Earn some respect maybe?"  
"You are trying my patience traitor!"   
There it is again. Traitor. Are they really after me or are they hunting down another warden. Neither seems likely; for a bunch of Orlesian knights to be out here in the middle of a war, searching for a Warden.  
"Just what do you think I have done?" Aedan inquired.  
Constance was getting visibly more flustered, like a confused boy given reigns of command. The inexperience was showing. His reddish face turned towards the warden as he stopped his horse and the rest of the entourage followed.  
"That is it Fereldan dog! Gag him and if he speaks up again cut his fucking tongue out." He shouted out furiously at his followers and the Warden. The serving knights stood in shock for a second at this outburst, then Michel trotted towards Aedans horse and bound his mouth with a rag quietly as the rest exchanged some heated words in Orlesian.

They kept on riding for hours just off the Imperial Highway, seemingly trying to avoid the main army movements and detection. The signs of war could still be seen in the distance. Shouts of terror, song of steel clanging against steel, bellows of smoke scattered in the dim greying sky.  
Aedan tried to listen to what his captors were talking about, but most of it was in Orlesian and what he did understand was bawdy stories from Basier and worried comments about the civil war.   
Devin was still within himself, head down deep in thought or perhaps trying to disconnect from the unfortunate situation. It appeared as if he was listening, same as Warden, trying to figure something out but still afraid to speak up or do something.   
All I need is an opportunity, just one bloody opportunity. Bound and gagged like a fucking animal. At this point I am starting to think whoever sent the bastards to capture me were actually looking for me. Tensions between Orlais and Fereldan have been high strung even after we finished off the darkspawn threat. A counselor and friend to King Alistair would be a prized captive to any Orlesian family, the question is who would be so bold to carry out with this plan. During a civil war no less, or perhaps that's what they are using to their advantage. I hate politics. How I ever managed staying in Denerim for nearly a year is beyond me. Facilitating between Anora, Alistair and Eamon, getting them to agree on anything; what a bloody nightmare. From what I hear of the capital the situation hasn't changed much but they keep up the facade of stability at least. Alistair wasn't much for politics either but I think he has got the hang of it, its in his blood. Heh, wonder if the King and Queen are still as awkward in private as they were before. 'The most celibate royal couple' they will call them. To be forced into marriage through duty to your country, to your family - that was destined for me too. Delilah Howe, oh how she despised me when we were young.'A foolish, brazen mutt' she called me. I hated her family for so long after Rendon, thinking of the bastard still wrenches my guts. I hated them just because they were Howes, until I met Nathaniel. He was much like myself, lost in family memories and hatred of those who wronged him. I wasn't sure why I spared him when I did, why I let him join the Wardens. Maybe I thought he would die during the joining. I later realized it was because I gave him the same chance Duncan gave me - a chance for a life and a family.

The band rode into a small path in between trees scattered with corpses of soldiers. Broken, slashed armor, missing limbs, blood splattered and seeping into the dirt. Some looked like they were crushed by their own horses as they fell, bad way to go. Warden saw a dagger about fifteen feet away, unsheathed lying in the dirt as one of the dead soldiers arms was reaching for it.   
Last ditch attempt to fight, didn't work out for him, might for me.   
As the horses rode past the dagger, Warden shouted out in pain through the rag bound around his mouth and forced himself tumbling off the horse to the right, towards the dagger, shoulder first to lessen the impact. He heard a sword being unsheathed behind him. He landed and quickly shifted on his back looking for the dagger with his hands bound behind him, while feigning pain.  
Come on you bastard... Got it!  
The Orlesians were off their horses, two of them watching over the squire who was worriedly and anticipatingly looking at the situation. Aedan slipped the blade under his coat and tucked it into his belt deftly.   
"Get up!" Constance exclaimed commandingly, sword drawn.  
Warden just looked at the man above him with a quizzical look.  
"I didn't catch that. Cat got your tongue?" The knight laughed at his own joke, the two men copied their superior. Roberta remained un-amused and roughly pulled the warden up by the front of his coat.  
"I hear your kind rode griffins once? Maybe you all fell off them too?" Basier quipped, letting out a hearty laugh.  
"Do you need help getting back on the horse?" Constance asked him extending his hand mockingly. "Roberta, why don't you help our mighty warden get back on the horse. Maybe tie him to it, he has trouble riding it seems." The two knights chuckled again.  
Oh he was having fun with this. The smirk on his face, petty and arrogant. If only I had a bloody sword I would correct that grin for him.  
"Enough Constance." Roberta responded calmly while helping the warden back on his horse.  
"You don't tell me when it is enough! Understand? You are here only because my mother wants you to be here, and you are under my command!" His tone shifted again, anger, almost contempt. They have a history these two for sure. Could use it later, stoke the fires if need be.  
Roberta did not respond, just shot him a look and got back on her own horse. Everyone followed, sheathing their swords. Back on the road. Aedan felt much more comfortable now, a dagger and a plan. Once we stop for the night we are getting away. They will take shifts to watch over us of course, might be tricky. At least I have control of this again, as tiny as it may seem.

As the sun set the rain clouds moved in and a light drizzle began. It's going to be a rainy night. The horsemen set up a camp just off the trail in a small clearing amidst the dense Heartland woods. A small fireplace was gathered and soon the knights began rifling through the Wardens bags and belongings, while him and his squire got tied to opposite sides of a tree, ten feet from the fireplace, covered from the rain by the foliage above them.  
Aedan pushed the rage off his mouth and whispered to his squire. "Devin. I am going to cut the bindings off when they go to sleep. One of them will stay up, so we will have to be fast. You run towards the trail and try to make it on the Highway, I will run into the woods. Meet me at the nearest town on the road. Did you get all that?"  
A slight pause, then he spoke up in a hushed but determined tone "I got it. You can count on me. I won't let you down ser."  
"Good. Try to go for a blade as you escape but don't make it a priority. They won't chase you, it's me they want for whatever bloody reason."  
"Could they be after you because of, you know, your connections in Fereldan, commander?"  
"Could be that, could be they are looking for another warden."  
"If that is the case, is it wise to go to Montsimmard? The Wardens there might be compromised." The kid has thought about it, and it was a valid concern. This calling I sensed, I wonder.  
"Don't overthink it Devin, alright? Let's just make it to the next town with our heads on shoulders."  
"Alright...ok." He said, more worryingly this time.  
"You'll do fine kid. Consider this your first official adventure. It gets easier after this."

They quieted down after that, watching as the knights inspected the wardens possessions: weapons, potions, elixirs, seasonal clothing, a fair bit of gold; all gathered for a long journey. Ah, the noble chevaliers poaching through their captives belongings, how charming. They pocketed some gold and grabbed some of the weapons, all but Roberta did. Whatever is she doing with this group?  
She was the first to take watch. The whole time vigilantly watching the prisoners. Very dutiful, disciplined like a bloody Qunari, couldn't cut the ropes with her on the watch.   
"How did you get here my lady? You don't seem to be enjoying what you do very much." Aedan asked, with a slight smile on his face, trying to get a reaction. None was given, she just sat there with her hand gripping the hilt of the sword as the fire crackled in between them.  
"A dame such as yourself should be holed up in some Orlesian castle with..."  
"Shut. Up." She interrupted calmly but sternly with bitterness in her voice. He had got under her skin with that. She is of noble birth, but now is out here working for some lordling. Maybe her parents had married her off and she went her own way? Wants to become a chevalier for honor.  
"You think your parents approve of your career choice?" This time she did not respond, just looked at the warden with cold dead eyes, her posture shifting more aggressive as she gripped the hilt even tighter. Not only angry, despondent, like he had torn open an old stitched wound. That was all too familiar to him.  
She got up and marched towards the warden, hand on hilt still. As she bent down, she fixed the rag around his mouth again. As Roberta turned back to her place and said "Go to sleep. Long day tomorrow." Stern voice again.   
She sat there vigilantly while Aedan caught some shut-eye, until Michel woke up to take the watch. He began reading a book shielding it and his head with a coat as he hunched over on the sitting log. Not sure what book, some sort of romance novel by the looks of the cover. That will do it. Should keep him pre-occupied.  
Warden started subtly sawing the ropes with the dagger clutched between his back and the tree. The wind was picking up as well as the rain. It was now pouring so hard, the umbrage was not helping at all. The dirt under him turned to mud rather quickly and the tree bark got viscid. The dried blood began washing down and getting into his eyes as his long hair stuck to his face rather annoyingly. The rope binding his wrists was off now, only the rope binding him to a tree remaining. A few minutes later it was loose enough to be snapped with one cut of the dagger. Warden unbound the rag with his mouth again and whispered, his voice masked by the sound of rain hitting on the shrubbery and the puddles. "Devin. You up?"   
"Yes. Are we going now? That knight - Michel he is still up."  
"Someone will always be up. This one is reading a book and..."  
Thunder echoed through the forest above.  
"...and he won't be quick to react. He is ten feet away, wearing armor and drudging through muck in the dead of night. He will be lucky if he sees what direction we run." He shot a quick, careful look towards the reading knight to see if he was still preoccupied. Still reading, good.  
"Next strike of thunder the rope will snap. Run towards the road. Don't look back, use the trees for cover. Got that?"   
"Ok...ok, I am ready." Devin answered his voice shivering, either from the cold rain or fear.  
Seconds felt like minutes now, Aedans heart was beating faster, adrenaline building up. He saw a flash of light pass through the skies.

Here we go.  
Thunder followed right after and the rope was snapped with one deft dagger move. Aedan swiftly got up, getting the feeling back into his legs, taking a quick glance back to make sure Devin was on the run. So he was. Off towards the road, good. Michel got up and shouted out "Get up! They are escaping!" As he drew his sword, throwing the coat and book down into the dirt.  
Time to leg it.  
Aedan ran down into the woods, away from the road, avoiding the branches and roots as best he could. He heard the Orlesian shouts and chatter, glancing back smaller lights began emanating from beyond the leaves, torches. "Get the Warden! That way!"  
Good. They are going after me. At least the kid is safe. I have to lead them on for at least a while, give him some time to make it to the road, get his bearings. If they lose me too fast they will get on the road.  
He made sure to slow down, keep them in eye-sight. Wasn't hard with the four torches scattered behind him, frantically searching the woods. "I see him! There! Monsieur de Roche!" They sped up now, moved faster. Aedan had to pick up the pace, zig-zag in between the trees. The dirt was slippery, almost running down the slope of the hill. It was hard to be dexterous and elusive and not lose balance, even as he had the advantage of not wearing plate armor like his pursuers.   
Pace your breath, focus on the ground. Shit! They are spreading out, surrounding me.  
An eerie crackle rung out through the woods, somewhere ahead of him or above? Like thunder but muffled. His focus stayed on the pursuers. He continued down the hill, right up until he reached the edge of a near-vertical drop of flowing mud, moss and tree roots. Nearly lost his footing. Couldn't see much down there, beyond the foliage and the dark of night.

Andrastes ass! Steep drop down there. Have to hide, bide my time, maybe get through them by force. Will be tough against four armored knights, with a single dagger.  
He hid behind a tree nearby, still hearing the Orlesian chatter behind him as the lights danced ever closer. He could hear the iron steps in the mud now, clanging of the armor and the drizzle of rain against it. One man, getting close. "Monsieur! I lost him!" voice of Michel, five feet from the tree, to the right. Aedan threw a piece of bark in a nearby bush to his right as he spun to the left around the tree and behind the pursuing knight. The dagger swiftly found his neck, just above the plate, cut clean through. The warden used his other hand to disarm the knight as he gargled blood in his throat, attempting to speak something incoherent. He pulled the blade out, spatter of blood shouting out of the dying mans neck, now armed with a sword as well as a dagger. Shouts from behind, not too far away.  
"Michel!" Aedan turned back to see the burly man, Basier charging him through the muck and punching away the branches out of his way. "You fucking mutt!"  
Aedan stepped out of the way of the swinging morningstar, retaliating with his sword at the back of his enemy. Clanged off the armor. Movement from behind, another knight swung a blade as Aedan brought up his dagger to block the sword. Looking back he saw Roberta. Constance ran up at the same time, now surrounded by three knights and the steep fall at his back.  
"You will die here now Warden. In the mud. Still going to pretend you are innocent?" Constance shouted at him filled with rage and righteousness. Arrogant little shit. The same strange crackle sounded out as before, as a dim flash of greenish light shined from behind the warden.   
The knights got distracted for a brief second and Aedan used the opportunity. He stepped forward in a stabbing motion towards Constance. Parried. Michel used the opportunity to strike. Aedan barely spun away from the vicious swing, as the mace grazed his shoulder. Constance retaliated with an overhead, stepping forward but lost his footing in the mud or a root, came tumbling towards the ducking warden knocking him off balance as well. Blood rushed into his bowels as the feeling of free-fall overcame him suddenly stopped as his back hit the mud below and he began tumbling down the dirt slope. Orlesian shouts from above growing dim and distant. He banged against some hardened roots and rocks, loosing grip on the sword. He heard Constances gasps of pain as he was tumbling down next to him. The fall ended as quickly as it began. The disorientation engulfed him as Aedan was getting up to his knees, gathering his bearings, wiping the muck and rain off his face. Another crackle from behind, much closer now, a flash of light. Aedan looked towards Constance who was about ten feet away, up on his feet and drawing his blade looking towards the shimmering green light. "Maker's mercy!" He exclaimed almost prayer-like.  
Warden shifted to his feet, dagger still in hand, looking towards the source of the light.   
A green, luminescent streak of light hovering mid air. Like a scar, like it did not belong. It shifted in the air unnaturally and malevolently, crackling with every move. The rain was almost avoiding it, curving around the shape of the aberration.  
Magic? A kind I haven't seen before, that's for sure.

Within a moment the magical scar, burst open, transforming into a sort of magical drapery, shifting ever so slightly, flowing like a bed-sheet in the wind. As it did, smaller tears began forming around it, behind the bushes within the trees, seemingly molding with the surroundings. He heard the two other knights coming down the hill slowly now.  
"Constance!" Roberta called out, as she saw the tear "What in Andrastes name is that?"   
"Fucking demons!" Basier shouted, pointing towards the newly emerging creatures from the green, shimmering scars.  
Dark, shadowy beings began eerily creeping towards them. Covered in mismatched rags and made of rotting, purplish flesh. Black smog forming in and around them, no legs to carry their floating visages.   
Shades. I remember the bloody things. Spread throughout the Fereldan Circle of Magi like a plague. Those were spawned of mage summonings. These ones seemed different, more feral perhaps, as they menacingly and maniacally moved towards their prey, like wolves drawn to blood. No mage to speak of either.  
Two of the demons shifted towards Aedan, letting out ghastly, inhuman moans. The other two engaged Constance. The other two knights moved over to help the man, as he nervously raised his sword in defense. Aedan dodged out of the way of a shadowy claw jutting towards him, making a quick slash with the dagger. Black, viscous almost smoky blood poured from the creature in front as it remained unphased, as if did not feel the pain. Couple more dodges pushed Aedan further back from the glowing tear and the knights desperately fighting off the demons, more of them began appearing from behind the trees, pouring from the air itself, like puss from a wound. The knights were getting surrounded now and suddenly the two shades attacking the Warden turned around and glided towards the tear.  
This is my chance, let the bloody bastards die and escape.  
Aedan ran towards the steep slope of the hill and began climbing it, grasping at the roots. Rain was still pouring heavily, making the mud slide down the steep hill and making it difficult to keep balance. He glanced back, watching Constances' near lifeless body being dragged by one of the shades behind a bush. He clawed at the dirt, whimpering, letting out a horrified scream as the demons claws dug into his back.   
"Constance!" A female voice shouted out in desperation.  
Warden kept climbing. He heard another screech of pain, the big hefty knight being torn apart by three other shades, tearing through armor like rags. Roberta was on her ass, backing up through the dirt, swinging her sword wildly, desperation and fear in her voice as she shouted out with every slash. The shades slowly and carefully engulfing her.  
A gut reaction flashed through him, like a kick to the stomach. "Shit." The warden let go of the roots jumping down the hill, softening his fall with a roll.   
"Hey!" He whistled as loud as he could. "Get up, run! They can't get far away from the fucking scar!" Now shouting at the knight. She looked at him for a brief moment with disbelief and surprise. Warden ran towards the shades, grabbing the dirt covered mace, next to the torn apart body of Basier, swinging at one of the shades, giving Roberta time to act. She quickly got back to her feet fending off the shades with wild arcing swings, keeping them at bay and slowly backed off. Both warriors disengaged to opposite sides, shades slowly following looking for opportunity to strike. Several feet later, staring down the demons in front of them, they began crackling with green energies, and let out ghastly, painful moans. They turned around and glided back towards the scar once again.  
Aedan couldn't see Roberta anymore, just the faint glow of demonic green energy, shimmering through the leaves in the distance. 

He made it up the slippery cliff. Looking to the left he saw Roberta make it up the side of the cliff, grunting and panting. As she noticed the Warden, she got up into a stance, sword drawn, pointing at him.   
"You are still our... my prisoner. Lay down your weapon." She commanded, still gathering her breath.  
Warden exhaled heavily.  
What in Andrastes ass? She has got to be the most stubborn woman I have seen. Maybe I should have left her die down there. Better to just let her lead me to Montsimmard, but on my terms this time.  
He spun the morningstar and dropped it in the dirt.  
"I will come to Montsimmard, willingly." He looked at the knight sternly, thinking for a bit, awaiting her response. She watched him carefully, studying him for a moment.  
"What game are you playing Warden?" She snapped at him, almost bewildered.  
"No games. We find my squire, ride towards the city and I face the Wardens there. Isn't that what you were after?" I'm not sure what they were after anymore.  
Her eyes moved towards the bled out Michel not far away from them. He bled out slowly, trying to crawl, stop the puncture in his throat. "You killed him. You lead us all to die and now you say you will come peacefully?"  
"Do I look like a bloody mage to you? I had no idea there were demons in the woods. And your friend... I acted on instinct. You kidnapped me at swordpoint, what were you expecting?"  
She narrowed her brows, not letting eyes off the warden.  
"You will answer for this. If not for betraying Wardens, then for Michel's and Cons..." her voice broke down, "I was supposed to protect him!"  
"You did all you could. The demons would have killed you as well if you had stayed."  
Roberta steeled herself again hearing wardens voice. "I don't need your sympathy."  


The magic down the hill crackled again.  
"Let's talk about this away from a pack of demons."  
"Move ahead, and I am watching you warden."  


They slowly made it back to the camp. The rain did not let down for a moment, pouring and weighing on Aedans clothes as his feet sank in the mud. Roberta behind him was murmuring something under her breath in Orlesian, a prayer perhaps for the fallen. That won't do them any good. They are just sacks of meat and bone now, food for the wolves. Prayers for the dead. If the dead could hear us they would despise the living.   
The camp was dark now, only few charred embers remained in the campfire. Aedan moved to grab his bags. Some of the weapons and potions were taken by the knights, most remained. He pulled out two swords and went to sheathe them on his back as Roberta interrupted. "Hey! No weapons warden."   
"You will have to either trust me or kill me, either way my blades stay with me." He responded with conviction in his voice, he's had enough of being disarmed. It felt like missing a limb, naked, undefended.   
She looked unconvinced, bitter and stern look on her face. "I could have left you to die, I could've fought you afterwards. I didn't. Now come on, put the blade away, it will rust in the rain." He attempted to be light-hearted, probably not the best time.   
She thought for a moment and loosened her stance. Didn't put the weapon away. She wouldn't.   


They gathered the bags and mounted their horses, unsaddling the other four and letting them go. The two cloaked and hooded riders got back on the path heading towards Montsimmard. No words were exchanged for a long time and the rain did not stop until the sunrise. A fresh morning warmth engulfing the road, after-rain freshness filling the air, birds chirping from the trees. A new day. Aedan feasted on a piece of dried jerky, not glamorous but it will do. He had forgotten of simple travel food during his years at Vigil. An arl had servants, cooks, luxury and with the blights gone it was a peaceful, calm life. For a while at least. The darkspawn don't rest.  
A chill went up his spine, mind tingling. He closed his eyes for a moment, instinctively.   


Skittering teeth. White, cat-like eyes glowing in the dark, darting side to side. Movement. We are running, where? Back into the cave, to the dark, away from the sun and the peering eyes.  


He opened his eyes, blinking to clear the brief vision. Turning his head slightly, to adress his unwilling companion. "Darkspawn over in a cave somewhere in..." He pointed ahead, west of the path "...that direction. If we are passing through the valley ahead, we might get jumped."  
Silence. Finally she responded. "We can get back on the highway. Might run into Duke Gaspards men."  
"Is that an issue for you?"  
"No. It should be fine... now." The last word came out feint and doleful.   
They turned off the beaten path, towards the Imperial Highway. Better than dredging through the forest in between. They eventually trotted on cobbled stone for a change. The highway was in disrepair from ages of use and abuse, a ruined relic of the Tevinter Empire. Now it endured another war. The tales it would tell if it could.  
They came across a band of soldiers; five men on foot wearing the colors of the Duke, military patrol by the looks of it. One of the men raised a hand to stop the travelers. "Where are you headed?"  
"Montsimmard." Warden responded.  
The soldier looked them up and down, no doubt noticing their sullied, worn clothing. "You look like you wrestled a bear in the mud." His compatriots chuckled.  
"What do they call it, a quick roll in the mud? Quite literally in this instance." He glanced back at Roberta, with a soft smile. Her face reddened with affront more than embarrassment as she clenched her jaw as to not say anything.  
The soldier looked the woman up and down silently, looked back at the Warden and laughed heartily as his companions joined him. "Well, you Fereldans sure know how to pick them. On your way then." The soldiers let out some whistles at them passing by, exchanging some japes and laughs.  
"I did not mean to sully your honor. The embarrassing story was distraction enough for them to let us pass quickly."   
"Just keep riding. We are not far from Verchiel." Roberta snapped back dismissively.   
Her fervor is certainly admirable if nothing else.  


By the evening the city of Verchiel was in sight, but it wasn't a sight either of them expected. Cities walls were surrounded by military tents, trebuchets and siege equipment, bustling with soldiers. Verchiel was under siege. Aedan looked at Roberta to gauge her reaction, she seemed befuddled.   
Shit, the kid was supposed to wait for us here. He wouldn't have walked straight into the siege to ask around some Orlesian knights. He is smarter than that. He must have moved on towards Montsimmard, that's the only option.  
"I will assume you didn't know that the city we were to stay the night was under attack?"   
"It is the Black Lions city." The knight answered matter-of-factly.  
Gaspard. Most of his army has moved north, towards Val Royeaux no doubt. Still, it is quite the feat to besiege a city so far into your enemies lines. It will take a long time to actually end the siege and storming a city of this size will take many lives. How will the duke respond I wonder, send his armies back, or wait it out.   
"I believe we will be spending the night on the dirt once again my lady." Aedan gibed. No response from the knight as she studied the battlements, deep in thought.  
"Something troubling you my lady?"  
She turned to face him "Would you stop calling me that?"  
"I apologize. I had thought to make up for all the times you had not been called such." Aedan continued mockingly. Not a sign of emotion on her face, other than stern contempt. Tough to break through to this one.  


Roberta clicked her tongue to get the horse moving and took the lead off the Highway to avoid the besieged city. They spent the night in a camp. Any attempts from Aedan to break through to her, asking about her past, were promptly shut down. This continued for two more days as they rode towards Montsimmard, making minimal stops on the road, rarely bothered by anyone. The roads were near empty as the trade was cut off due to the siege, no caravans or even patrols. Some signs of battle could be noticed in the distance, nothing that would be troubling to the two riders. Troubling to the men and women fighting a pointless civil war perhaps. At the very least they don't spill each others blood during a blight, as the darkspawn breath down their necks. The betrayal at Ostagar still haunted him sometimes. Not as much as it haunted Alistair, he had lost a brother and a father that day. That's where it all began, and now we are here, amidst another bloody war. 

As days had gone by, the sight of Montsimmard was a welcome relief. Up on a hill, amidst groves and woods, farms and orchards stood a grand city with blue and white walls made of delicately crafted stone. It's multi-colored rooftops glistening from afar above the city walls. The wealthier mansions and castles could be seen from far away, among them a grey tower with a large silver griffin perched on top - the Wardens headquarters. Unlike the last city, this one seemed very much at peace, untouched by the civil war. The walls and towers surrounding it, however, seemed fortified and prepared for an attack.  
As the two travelers rode closer to the main gates, the bustle at the entrance was noticeable. Traders and refugees, shouting and chanting for entry into the city. Arguments in Common and Orlesian tongue all around, disputes and pleas for mercy. Apothecaries were taking care of the wounded peasants and soldiers along the dozens of cots and tents stationed around the city gates. Cries from children and moans of pain could be heard throughout. Chaos of war. The riders gently pushed through the crowd of peasants seeking entry and approached the guards holding off the displeased protesters.   
"Refugees? Deserters? Either way no haven here for the likes of you." a gruff man wearing a helmet responded, clearly fed up with what must be every-day routine.  
"Roberta de Roche. I have returned with a Warden." She responded sternly but with hints of shame, on behalf of the warden or herself, he could not tell.  
De Roche? Was she Constances... well shit.  
The guardsman looked her up and down, scoffed, turned around and made a spinning motion with his finger to the man in the gate-towers. The mechanisms clicked heavily and the portcullis raised slowly, as the guardsmen shouted down the crowd in front of them, pushing them back to avoid bloodshed. The two riders were let past the gates into the bustling city.  
Aedan turned to his companion, "I didn't know that..."  
"It's not what you think Warden. Find your squire and we must meet with Marquise Beatrice de Roche. She will want to see the man who took this much effort to find." She interrupted, with bitterness in her voice.  
This is going to get much more difficult before it gets simpler.


	4. The Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter this time. Oy vey.

"I hope you haven't forgotten your manners, squire." Aedan spoke out as the horses trotted up the cobbled pathways towards Chateau Roche, past the wandering nobles dressed as extravagantly as the ones in Val Royeaux. No matter where in Orlais, they make sure you can tell them apart from the regular folk. No expense spared.

"I think I will manage ser. I've read some books on Orlesian nobility on the way here, customs and history." Devin declared almost proudly.

"That is quite the feat young Devin. Should I learn to curtsy?"

"No ser, Lady Roberta would curtsy. You would have to bow. Left leg backwards, right hand on chest, left arm stretched out to the side and chin touching collar."

"That was a rhetorical question squire." The kid is like a damn knife. Sharp on one side, dull on the other. "Besides, I was born a noble as well, remember? I think I can handle pompous nobles."

"From what I have read, Orlesians are quite different than Fereldans."

"Astute observation squire."

Devin trotted closer to the warden and followed in a more hushed tone, out of earshot of Roberta who was leading the way a few paces ahead. "Ser, do you think we are in trouble? Ser Constance was the Marquises and Lady Roberta's relative. What should we do?"

Aedan did not comply to the secretive tone and spoke as loudly as he did before. "We could ask Roberta if you are so curious."

The knight ahead of them turned her head slightly "I can hear you boy, you know?"

The kid reddened quickly "I'm... I'm sorry my lady. I didn't mean to pry."

"I find it is often best to pry and receive a direct answer, rather than stumble blindly." Aedan continued his squires haphazard apology, directing it at Roberta.

"Her Grace will sate your curiosity. She is much better at talking than I am." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Talking is an over-rated skill, isn't that right Devin?"

"You would know best. Ser." Well, at least the kid is growing some teeth at last.

"I never asked, how did you get here so fast without a horse and get past the siege?" Aedan inquired.

"Uhm, I had a horse. Well, not me, a messenger for the Empresses army I met on the highway. He was on his way to the siege at Val Chevin. I had to lie to him that we were attacked by a bear and that, you, well... you died."

"That's quite alright Devin. I would only be mad if I was actually dead."

"I wanted to tell him that we were kidnapped but I wasn't sure if Empresses men were looking for a warden as well."

"They aren't." Roberta cut in solemnly and continued trotting.

"That's fine Devin. It was smarter not to tell him, chances are one man would have died anyway. Especially after what we saw there. What happened at the siege?"

"They let me pass, even gave me a horse after I told them I am to meet with Warden Commander Clarel at Montsimmard. They don't pay much attention to a simple squire." And here's that humility and lack of confidence.

"You are smarter than most adults I have come across, alright?" Aedan encouragingly nudged the kid. "Then again that doesn't say much." Can't have him grow too full of himself.

The Chateau Roche was in sight now, as they turned a corner past the gates into the gardens. About the size of the Vigil, this one looked much more noble and affluent. Built of white marble and yellow tinted stone, sky blue banners hanging from the arches and towers adorned with three golden flowers. The peaks of the roofs and towers were decorated with gold crafted flower petals. The lavish flower gardens almost seeped into the architecture as countless rose vines stretched up the marble walls.

Several guards clad in full-plate armor and golden mask helmets, carrying pikes patrolled the gardens. Two of them, guarding the entrance to the chateau gardens glanced at Roberta and let the riders pass without a word.

The travelers dismounted at the stables and moved into the chateau, following Roberta. She seemed determined, steeling herself for the confrontation, anxious. More nervous than she was when confronting me in that bloody forest. As the engraved elegant twin doors parted, they were greeted by a man, old but lean and stoic with a face that was obviously worn out by years of dutiful serving and talking to patience testing nobles.

"Madame Roberta, how delightful to see you back home." He exclaimed without a single change in his tone or demeanor. His brows curled up in a surprise for a moment as he looked at the warden and the squire. "We have guests, I see. We graciously welcome to Chateau Roche. I am the steward of the house, you may call me Bazil." He bowed courtly. "And you are..."

"Aedan Cousland. This is my squire Devin Eremon." The squire bowed according to his Orlesian book. Greeting a steward as he would a noble. Charming.

As he announced himself, Roberta shot a barely contained look of bewilderment at the warden. She has heard of the Hero of Ferelden by name. If only a picture came with it, many problems could be avoided. "Why didn't you tell us?" She snapped.

"I think you were past believing anything I said once you tied my mouth shut."

The steward intervened. "Madame Roberta. I see that you are here with two charming guests, but if I may ask, why is Lord Constance not with you?"

"Could you ask for the Marquise, Bazil?" She evaded the question bluntly.

"At once." The man turned on his heel and headed up the large stairs in the middle of the grand hall. The interior was quite lavish and extravagant. The Roches were either extremely wealthy or deep in debt to their necks.

After ten minutes of patient waiting and silence, a woman wearing an elegant, blue ball gown, slowly and gracefully began walking down the stairs. Bazil, posted statuesque like at the bottom of the stairs announced her impassively and boomingly: "May I present to you, Her Grace Marquise Beatrix Adeline de Roche! The two gentlemen guests are Warden Commander Cousland of Fereldan and his squire." Aedan bowed his head slightly, one hand on chest. not quite the Orlesian display of courtesy his squire and Roberta followed with.

The noblewoman kept walking down the stairs, one hand on the golden railings. Head held high, wearing an ornate golden mask resembling an owl, cherry blonde hair tied in a bun. She stopped at the third step from the bottom and finally spoke up. "What a pleasure to have the Hero of Ferelden in our chateau. I do apologize for it being a terrible mess, we did not expect guests at such a time." Smile was curled on her lips as she spoke, eyes fixed on the warden through the slits in the mask. Unshaken and courteous.

"Your grace." Roberta spoke up politely.

"Roberta, dear, it is so good to see you back from your travels. I can not wait until you and my brother share your adventures with us." She glanced at her guests, noticing the dour looks on their faces, surely sensing something was wrong but not showing it a slight bit.

"Your grace, Constance..." she steeled herself "He fell in battle."

Lady Beatrix gasped in shock, covering her mouth with her gloved hand, almost theatrically. Even as real tragedy occurs, it is evidently hard to give up the 'Game'.

She stabilized herself holding onto the railing. "Lord Constance." She corrected the knight. "How did he die?" the noblewoman continued more quietly and thoughtfully.

"Vile demons overwhelmed him. He fought them bravely."

Bravely, quivering in his greaves and screaming as they tore into his spine.

"And where were you Roberta?" the lady snapped at her. That noticeably took her aback, anger and despair flushed across her face then she hung her head apologetically. "I wasn't strong enough. I failed him your grace."

"Oh, don't do that dear! You know I hate when you do that." She exclaimed more briskly, as if forgetting her brothers death already. "He was a brash young man. I feared he would one day fall. At least my dear Constance fell fighting bravely and did not turn his back on the danger, like a real Chevalier would." Her words were filled with venom. She turned her head back towards Aedan, putting back on the mask of a courteous noble. "I do hate for you to see me like this, on this morbid day. You must stay for dinner tonight as a guest of honor. You must be exhausted from your long travels, poor dear. We will prepare a guest room and you may stay as our guest, yes?" It would be impolite to refuse and I intend to stay in the city to seek out the Orlesian Wardens regardless. She definitely wants me for something, having King Alistair's advisors ear and a grey Warden to boot would be beneficial to a schemer. It would be a change of pace sleeping in a decent bed. Besides, leaving her and Roberta alone might result in some ugly eye-scratching.

"It would be a pleasure, your grace. I don't want to abuse your generosity, however, so we must depart the following day."

"Wonderful! I shall make the arrangements. Bazil!" She commanded towards the old steward, who immediately bowed and turned to his duties. "You may come and go as you please, if you need anything simply call for Bazil or one of the servants. I must attend to my letters unfortunately. It was a pleasure to meet you." She curtsied and made her way back upstairs as gracefully as she came down.

Roberta stood there, lost in thought, staring at the marble mosaic floor. Aedan put his hand on her shoulder cautiously, she recoiled in surprise but quickly relaxed as if snapping back from a nightmare.

"Would you like to come along to the Wardens Tower my lady. You look like you could use some fresh air and a walk."

"I could use punching something very hard." She responded almost as a joke, if not for the obviously stoic, intense look on her face.

Regardless, she followed the Warden and his squire. Feeling lost and alienated from her home she needed somewhere to be, someone to follow at least for a while until the fire settled. Roberta was a warrior first and foremost, a soldier who followed orders. Failing someone who lead her - Constance, and a relative to add, must have hit her hard. When you take the blinders off a horse it will either become free or lost.

After moments of riding through the bustling city streets Aedan broke the silence. "Why were you hunting a faceless warden?"

"Constance offered to hunt the traitor for the Grey Wardens. We only knew he was a man, a warden, Fereldan and traveling alone."

"Three out of four isn't too bad."

"I am sure Constance thought the same." She replied dejectedly.

"You still didn't answer why you were hunting him."

"I did. Why the Wardens wanted him, I don't know. I am sure they will tell you at the tower." She tried to avoid any conversation. The wound was still fresh and her own stoic, brooding demeanor prevented it.

"I am sure they will, but I can't resist hearing your snappy retorts. My lady." She averted her eyes and exhaled through the nose, like a bull. At least she looks the part.

Warden Tower was soon in sight, reaching above the surrounding castle walls and house roofs, it stood alone, resolute and resilient. It barely fit in; a grey stone tower among the colorful, exuberant Orlesian buildings. The castle gates were open and dozens of workers were packing carriages and horses. A couple of town guards were stationed at the gates. They let the three riders pass without trouble after Aedan announced himself. They stabled their horses and continued on towards the Tower hall doors. The men and women buzzing around them were carrying sacks, crates and barrels; slinging them over the horses backs and packing them into carriages. They must be relocating everyone, but why?

The man at the doors directed them to the meeting chambers at the end of the grand hall. Not a warden, then again I don't sense many wardens here at all. This kind of relocation doesn't happen short of a blight and last I checked I stopped one.

A dark haired, tan younger man stepped out of the meeting chamber, parting one of the large doors. He was wearing a simple warden tunic and then it hit Aedan. Ah, this is the warden I sensed before. The only warden in this bloody city. His jaw clenched. This doesn't have to be a waste of time, the man must still know of their whereabouts.

The young warden spoke up in an Orlesian accent: "Welcome to the Palestone Talon tower. I am Aren, acting steward of the castle, and you?"

"Commander Cousland of Ferelden." The kids eyes widened in surprise and with a hint of worry. "Where are the rest of the wardens?"

"May I say, it is a great honor to have the Hero of..."

"Skip the pleasantries. Just answer my question." He interrupted as his patience was wearing thin. He needed an answer, he needed to know where the wardens have gone.

"Well, messere, I wish I had an answer for you. Commander Clarel organizes the movements of the Orlais chapter, I was simply left to oversee the castle and moving of provisions." He is hiding something, avoiding the question, not of his own accord that's for sure. Why would Clarel be secretive about this, and to other wardens too.

"You do realize that I am a Warden. If Clarel ordered you to keep the warden movements secret from the nobles, that is understandable. I need to seek them out of my own accord." Aren, considered for a second.

"I understand messere. No one was expecting for the Hero of Ferelden to come to Orlais." He sighed. "We heard the Calling. All of us." What? If all the wardens heard the calling, what is it? Another Blight, an Archdemon?

The young warden continued. "Have... have you heard it too?"

Aedan looked to the side, to Roberta and Devin who both wore a confused look on their faces. He turned back to Aren.

"I need to know where they went Aren."

"Messere, I told you Commander Clarel..."

"Yes, yes she organizes movements and you don't know anything. Where are the supplies headed then?" He interrupted the warden again, more impatient and brazen. A worried look washed across the young wardens face.

"The supply caravans are headed into many different places, different directions. Some towards the Western Approach, some to the north, towards Weisshaupt, some to Tevinter."

"So we are narrowing it down, good. Where did Clarel head out?"

"I truly do not know. I know she was headed to the north. Please, messere, I can not tell you more." There was desperation in the kids voice, whether because he truly did not know or because he was on his last strand of lies, warden could not tell.

He looked into the young wardens eyes, studying him. Looks like I'm back to square one, unless... "You had a warden go rogue recently, didn't you?"

His eyes narrowed. "May I ask how you know about it?"

"Found out about it the hard way." He glanced at Roberta. She spoke up at the young warden inquisitively as on queue.

"My cousin Lord Constance de Roche offered to hunt him down for Commander Clarel."

"Ah yes, Lord Constance. I apologize for not recognizing you my lady."

"It's fine. I am no lady."

Aedan jumped in, looking at Aren "You were telling us about the traitor."

"Yes. Of course." He sighed again rubbing the back of his neck. "Senior Warden Damon attempted to wrest control from our Commander. If not for her shrewdness, he would have taken over."

"Take over the Orlais division? Why? A political move?"

"I don't think so messere. Damon wasn't interested in politics and we did not get the chance to question him. He escaped from his cell before the trial. Cut down four brothers and sisters on the way out." That last sentence weighed heavily on his tongue, sadness and contempt.

"Any idea where he was headed?"

"None, messere. To be honest Commander was not too worried about him." By the sound of his voice, Aren did not approve of that. Must have lost a friend to the traitor. "Damon did steal documents belonging to her. Personal accounts and letters from what I gather. That's why she recruited bounty hunters, like Lord Constance, to hunt down the traitor."

He was much more open about revealing information of this Damon than the Wardens goals. Clarels orders no doubt. There is nothing else I will get out of him, he is too loyal to his Commander. Good man to leave behind and answer visitors questions. Why all this secrecy from her fellow Wardens? Does she mistrust the order or Ferelden perhaps. There has been bad blood between Orlais and Ferelden for decades, even between Wardens. Loghain didn't do much to calm it over. Bastard cut off their entry into the country during the Blight.

"I think we are done here."

The young warden nodded with relief. "I must return to my duties now. I wish you luck in your travels Commander and you Ser Roberta." He bowed lightly and retreated back to the meeting chamber slipping through the door-crack, shutting it behind him.

The three travelers made it outside back on their horses.

"Let's head back to the chateau. I for one can not wait to join the noble festivities."

She just shook her head unamusedly in response.

"Tell me Roberta, why did Constance join up to hunt down the traitor. He was a noble, surely not looking for a reward. Was it glory?"

She was staring down at the horses head as she rode, in contemplation. "Constance wanted to become a Warden. He revered them, their heroism."

"It's not that difficult to conscript yourself." But it is difficult to actually become a warden. Wonder if the lordling had changed his desires if he knew about the Joining.

"It is difficult for a noble with duties and obligations to family." She did not want to share more than that, clearly.

By the time they returned to the Chateau Roche it was already more vibrant and festive. Servants were running from place to place, preparing the decorations, cleaning and getting the premises ready for quite a noble dinner party.

"Is that all for me?" Aedan asked coyly, leaning back in saddle to look at his companions.

Roberta rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. This is quite regular for Orlesian nobility, warden."

As blunt as the front end of a hammer.

The steward approached them as they stabled their horses. "Madame Roberta. Monsieurs. Her grace has informed me to escort you to your rooms so that we can prepare you for the dinner party."

"Prepare us? We might as well be heading into battle." Aedan replied, to which a slight smile curled on the stewards face.

"Ah, yes. The game. Go ahead then, show us to our rooms." The quicker this is done with the better. Although if my time in Val Royeaux was of any indication, every bloody noble wants something and do their mouths begin to water at the sight of the Hero of Ferelden. Let's hope I still remember what Leliana taught me. Fereldan politics are a child's play compared to the Game. She was right of course. A show of force and a blade through a traitors heart swiftly stopped a rebellion back in Denerim. Chances are a lot more blood will spill before Gaspard and Celene settle. Simpler times.

Aedan was separated from Devin and Roberta as they entered the chateau. The halls were gilded and lavish yet felt all too empty. As lustrous as gold is, it is still as cold as iron.

A servant escorted him. Small elven girl, with a sweet common charm, red hair falling to her shoulders.

They made it to his 'guest room' eventually. Even his quarters in Highever seemed modest compared to it. Windows covered with intricate long curtains. At least fifteen foot high ceiling adorned with a golden chandelier in the middle, illuminating the room along the large fireplace. A queen sized bed across from it. A chair and a washbasin were awaiting wardens arrival in the middle of the grand room.

"My lord. Her grace has asked me to shave your beard." The elven woman said sheepishly, looking at the floor, holding her hands in front guardedly.

"She asked you to shave my beard?"

"It would be uncourteous to show up at a noble dinner with a... unkept facial hair my lord."

"Are you implying I have been rolling through rain and mud in the wilderness?" Aedan poked at her. Her guard raised as she took a slight step back and bowed anxiously.

"No, my lord, I wouldn't dare imply..."

"Oh for Makers sake, you Orlesians need to relax." He interrupted the elf boisterously. "It was a jest, you can stop bowing."

"Yes, my lord." She stood up as straight as her humility let her, head still down, not making eye contact.

"Her grace may have a point. I was trudging through muck for days, not to mention a sea voyage. I do need a bath." He looked back towards a door at the other end of the room, pointing towards it. "That way?"

"Yes, my lord."

Aedan made his way towards it, taking off the tunic in the process. He immediately heard the servant turn around on her heel.

First bath since Vigil. What was it? Almost a month. Simple pleasure like these reminded him of more peaceful times. It was soured by the privilege of a noble upbringing after all he has seen during the Blight. The poverty, the squalor. Things he was shielded from in his younger years. Some things never change. There will always be a war, there will always be a poor family scraping by to buy an overpriced loaf of bread and feed their child.

Ah and this is why I prefer not to be left alone with my thoughts.

Aedan exited the bathroom after twenty minutes as the water was getting luke-warm. He sat down in the before-prepared shaving chair. The elfs back was still facing him as she was inspecting a landscape painting hung above an armoire, depicting what looked like a wyvern-hunt.

"It's a beautiful painting." He spoke up. The elf startled and turned around rapidly.

"I apologize." As she saw him sitting down already wearing only pants. Her head dropped to look to the floor again as she glanced at the large scar stretching from his abdomen to the side of his ribs. "I did not hear you my lord."

"That's alright." Noticing her shyness he continued, "It's not like you haven't seen a humans chest before." He teased, but the elfs face reddened as she clenched her hands holding each other to the point of them becoming red as well. She trotted towards him, head down.

Big fucking mouth Aedan. "I apologize. I did not mean it that way." He followed regretfully, trying to make eye contact. Could barely see her face behind the hair hanging from the sides.

"You don't need to apologize my lord. I am just a servant."

"I would hate to insult a woman who is about to hold a razor to my throat." Aedan tried to lighten the situation. She was behind him by now, preparing the shaving soap.

"As you say, my lord." He could hear a light smile in her voice.

As she applied the soap to his beard thoroughly, slicking his hair back out of the way, Aedan focused on the painting from before. It depicted a beautiful alpine landscape in the background, while in fore an Orlesian knight in battle with a blue wyvern. Aedan has only seen them in books and other paintings. Hear say, most of them have been hunted out by the Orlesians and the ones that are not are prized trophy hunts, for their venom mostly. Among using it for poisons and potions it is also used in alcohol. It would be Orlesians who would drink the poison of a bloody wyvern.

"I never caught your name." Aedan spoke up.

"Sheila, if it pleases you my lord."

He leaned his head back to look at the elf. Her eyes nervously darted to the side as she continued rubbing the soap. He leaned back to face the painting.

"Tell me the story of this painting Sheila."

After a moment of contemplation she began. "It depicts the heroism of Marquis Valerin de Roche the Second, father of Her Grace Beatrix de Roche and cousin once removed by marriage to Emperor Florian. The tale tells of Marquis Valerin going on a wyvern hunt along the Emperor and countless other nobles. The hunt grew long and stale as fruitless nights passed and scouts returned with no sign of wyvern, until Marquis' hound woke the camp up in a howling and barking in the direction of an evergreen valley - the Verdant Narrows. They say Marquis was the first one to his horse and rode ahead, without waiting for the other hunters. His Grace was known for his extravagance and boisterousness as well as his respect towards men and women who worked the chateau. Servants often heard his hearty laugh as he listened to their tales."

"You speak highly of him." Aedan stated proddingly as the razor stopped grazing his cheek to let him speak.

"My mother and grandparents served His Grace, he was well liked among the serving staff." She answered continuing the shave. Something in her voice told him that the current Marquise did not have the same respect from the servants. Better not to say it or the poor girl will add a scar to my face.

"The painting." She reminded herself nervously. "Marquis rode ahead of the noble hunters in pursuit of his hound and what he had sensed. But his pursuit was halted when the hound slowed down and circled, looking for the trail desperately. He had lost the scent. It all seemed lost until a scream startled Marquis, a scream for help from none else than the Emperor Florian himself. Brave Marquis spurred his horse until it bled in a hurry to save His Majesty. He arrived to the sight of a mighty blue wyvern towering over the Emperor. Marquis lept off his horse to save his lord and with one swing of a sword cut off the beasts claw that was reaching for the Emperor."

"I noticed his painted brother was short one paw." Aedan jested. The elf giggled quietly but swiftly stopped herself to focus, continuing the story.

"Standing himself between the Emperor and the Wyvern, he forced it away, almost shouting down the beast into submission. The wyvern grew desperate and filled with rage to match Marquis' and lunged head first into His Grace. Unfortunately for it, Marquis Valerin was a skilled chevalier and with a deft sidestep, he decapitated the fel beast in a single mighty strike. Emperor Florian threw a grand feast for his savior and newfound friend that day and offered him anything he wished: titles, riches, favors. Marquis famously responded with 'Keep the wine flowing Your Majesty!' to the chagrin of all the present nobles, which highly amused the Emperor."

"You should tell stories more often." Aedan replied as Sheila was finishing shaving his cheeks, moving to the neck.

Smiling at the compliment, she continued. "Emperor Florian once shared his fondness and friendship for Divine Beatrix III and how she hated her Divine name and title. Marquis remembered this and on Emperors name day vowed to name his firstborn child Beatrix, even if it was a boy." Sheila washed the razor once the story and the beard was finished, then she quickly corrected herself.

"I apologize my lord. I did not mean to say that, I forgot my place." With trepidation and anxiousness in her voice as she patted down Aedans face with a towel.

"I take it Her Grace does not like the story of her names conception." She did not respond to that, only held her head down ashamedly, putting away the tools. She then stood in front of Aedan as he sat rubbing his shaved chin uncomfortably.

"My lord, I apologize for being so flustered. You are the Hero of Ferelden and your exploits are known far and wide as is your heroism." She spoke in a dulcet but impassive tone, still looking down.

"If I had a copper every time someone said that." He responded sardonically, still feeling his chin.

Suddenly a knee landed in between his thighs as the elf sat on his right leg, gently laying her hands on his chest and pressing her lips into his. His member stirred at this sudden attack as the elfs hands pushed into his chest with nails, while his tongue and lips moved almost on their own accord and his hand reached for her hip instinctively.

What in Andrastes tits? He gathered himself, gently pushing away the elf's chin. As their lips parted, Aedan inquired. "You know, people usually ask for an autograph."

"I am sorry, my lord. Do you like it slower?" She gently caressed his chest with her hands now, leaning in for another kiss. He grabbed her hands and held them down to her thighs.

"Would you stop for a mommm..." Her mouth landed on his once again. He stood up now, forcing the elf to her feet as well.

"What is it with you woman?"

She bowed her head down ashamedly, face turning red from embarrassment. "I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to offend. I only aimed to please." She nervously, apologetically spat out.

Oh of course. The bloody Marquise got her up to it. No doubt currying a favor, making me feel welcome and comfortable. She definitely seeks something from me. I bet she hand-picked the red-head among her servants too. How bloody predictable, and I almost fell for it.

"Alright. You don't need to do anything like that Sheila."

"Her Grace will throw me out. Please my lord, don't send me away!" She pleaded, now looking at him desperately with wide, watery eyes.

The Marquise is quite ruthless with her politics it appears. Did not take to her father in that regard, it seems. "I will not send you away, all right? Dry your eyes." She pulled out a handkerchief from her dress pocket, patting at her eyes sniffling and composing herself. "But you will also not need to sleep with me on some nobles orders."

Wiping off her tears she inquired nervously, "What... what would you have me do then, my lord."

Aedan looked around the room, noticing several other large paintings. "There are still stories left to be told. Besides, someone needs to help me get into these bloody Orlesian clothes."

Within the hour, Sheila unveiled the tales of the Roche family, heroic deeds and the family's past. They came from humble beginnings as tradesmen who married into royalty and nobility and earned their family name through shrewdness and ambitious politics. The elven servant was reserved when asked about the current Marquise. The noblewoman appears to be very politically astute and secretive as most of her ilk. She does seem to be a control freak, the shave, the specific clothes that were sent to the room. Dark grey silk brocade trousers, tall leather boots with silver buckles, a simple elegant silk shirt and a layered thick cotton vest, blue with white streaks. Very warden-esque, but a lot more elegant than what the order would actually wear.

Aedan stood on the balcony as the sun went down, remembering his days on that little island in the Waking Sea with his love.

We spent barely a month there together but it was bliss. No world shaking events, no tragedies, no news from the world around us, just us. If there ever was a heaven, it was right there and then.

A bell rung throughout the palace halls.

Knock on the door followed.

"Come on in."

The double doors parted and Bazil entered, hands behind him, chin high. "If monsieur would follow me, we will begin the dinner."

He was escorted to the ball room which decorated illustriously and royally. A grand room with marble floors and frescoed ceilings illuminated as if by a thousand candles. In the center was an opulent dinner table, more than twenty feet long with more dishes being brought to it by the servants. Dozens of masked nobles dressed as extravagantly as one might expect from such a gathering, were spread throughout the ball room, chatting, gossiping, scheming. A bard played his lute in the corner, spreading a somber melody vibrating through the room.

Marquise approached the warden, dressed in a sky blue ball gown with a high feathered collar, stretching behin her back and head. Her shoulders adorned with golden shoulderpads, shaped like flowers. Upon her face was a mask, same one she wore when they first met. Her hair was done in two large buns at the back of her head. She gracefully extended her hand towards the warden.

He gently held it up to his lips and kissed her signet ring.

"Your grace. You look enchanting this evening."

"Why, thank you. You clean up well yourself monsieur. Your presence at our humble soiree does me great honor."

"Have you seen my squire - Devin, your grace?"

"Oh yes, he must be around somewhere." She effortlessly waved her hand in a vague direction. "Please, mingle, enjoy your evening, we will talk more soon. I promise." She touched his shoulder coyly with her gloved fingers and returned to her other guests.

Now where is the kid?

He soon noticed Devin all dressed up to match the attending nobles but still stuck out as a sore thumb. He uncomfortably, anxiously paced next to the walls, inspecting the sculptures and paintings.

"Devin!" Warden tapped the back of his shoulder abruptly.

"Maker..." The kid jumped in shock and quickly turned to face the assailant. "Commander." He continued with relief and annoyment in his voice.

"I see you are fitting in squire. Has that book on Orlesian culture been any help?" Aedan asked jokingly.

"No ser, I prefer to not... talk to the nobles here."

"That's good Devin. Now, don't drink too much, don't tell the nobles anything about yourself or me, just stick to pleasantries if you are ambushed, maybe excuse yourself if going gets rough. You'll figure it out. Oh, and don't eat the cheese."

"I think I can handle the cheese ser." He replied defyingly.

Aedan scoffed humorously "Alright young Devin. Don't tell me I didn't warn you." He put his arm around squires shoulder and in a more hushed tone continued. "No one has tried to seduce you have they?"

The kids face reddened slightly. "Uhmm... no? Ser."

"Good!" He spoke up again, letting go of the kid and slapping him on the shoulder as he left him there, dumbfounded.

Aedan paced the hall, looking at the nobles chatting, trying to avoid any conversation with them. Despair was in their voices, talk of a tragedy that had occured and a word hotly thrown around - Inquisition. An ancient organization or sub-sect of the Chantry that rose up sometime after the first blight as far as the Warden knew.

He noticed Roberta. A bizarre sight and barely recognizable. She wore a black and gold dress that would have looked elegant on anyone other than her, she looked as uncomfortable as she felt no doubt. Her hair was cleanly slicked back into a ponytail and the makeup did a poor job of concealing her sharp, firm features. She stumbled the halls like a wounded doe, scanning the room with an anxious and almost scared look on her face.

Some nobles quietly snickered as she passed them by, but quickly shut up once she shot a fierce look back at them.

Aedan approached her with two glasses of wine in hand.

"My lady, you look like you need a drink."

"Maker, yes." She grabbed it out of his hand and gulped it down in a second.

"Not your type of event?" He asked, extending his arm to walk with her. She looked at him with a puzzled look.

"I can walk on my own."

"I don't doubt that, but if you wish to avoid these people you might want to stick with me."

Roberta hesitantly held onto his arm and continued walking clumsily alongside the warden. There was something incredibly attractive in stirring up the outrage among the nobles. An unlady-like bear of a woman walking with and chatting to the Hero of Fereldan, while all the perfumed, dressed up social climbers stand on the side and watch. The simple things in life.

"I never got the chance to apologize. What I said back at the camp, about your parents? It was uncalled for." Her face was ever stoic as she looked straight ahead as they walked. She did not respond.

"We have all lost something, how that loss affects us is what makes us who we are." Something snapped in her mind as she looked at the warden with a melancholy look. Before she could sa anything a bell rung out throughout the room and the nobles burst out in an applause, turning their attention to the center of the room.

The Marquise spoke up as the silence set in and the applause died out. "I welcome all my dear friends to this soiree that will hopefully wash away these unfortunate events and celebrate what many have forgotten in these trying times. Reverence, cordiality and peace. So let us be their shepherds and lead by example as Andraste herself would have."

The crowd applauded once again in agreement.

"We also welcome an honored guest this night." She looked towards the steward who was standing by her and extended her hand to bring the crowds attention to the Warden.

"Lord Aedan Cousland. Hero of Ferelden, Warden Commander of Ferelden, Kingmaker, Chancellor of the Crown and Arl of Amaranthine." The crowd once again applauded looking at the warden and Roberta with their arms interlocked.

"And it seems a suitor to my dear cousin." Marquise continued. The nobles shared a polite, posh chuckle. "Now please, gather for the feast everyone."

Following the marquise the nobles gathered in their seats around the royally filled table. Everybody's name was noted on small parchments laid out at every seat.

Aedan had the seat of honor of course to the right of the Marquise. Roberta, strangely, was seated several seats away from the lady of the house. Perhaps not too strange, considering the circumstances. Devin was sat just right to Aedan as well and next to him a younger noblewoman, by her attire and compared to everyone else, she was not too rich or prestigious. Here with her parents, likely looking for a match.

This resembles more a battle plan than a dinner party.

"A very rousing speech your grace. It must be nice to see so many nobles gather to honor your brother." Aedan leaned in to address the marquise.

"That is very sweet of you Lord Commander but most of the nobles have gathered to honor the death of Divine Justinia, may Maker rest her soul." She feigned a surprised gasp at the wardens surprised quizical look. "Oh, I thought you had heard. My dear, I understand how you must feel, I was petrified when I heard first."

"You are serious. How did it happen?"

"Oh it was horrible. As you know Her Divine Majesty gathered leaders of both mages and templars to the Temple of Sacred Ashes for peace talks... everyone present perished."

Aedans heart stung sharply and his breath stopped for a moment, everything feeling suddenly so cold. A name almost escaped his mouth on the tip of his tongue. Leliana. He forced himself back into the moment.

"Everyone?"

"Save for the lucky few who have declared the Inquisition."

"Who?" He asked impatiently.

"The hands of the Divine herself. Seeker Pentaghast and the Nightingale, among others." She stated clamly, no doubt noticing the distress in wardens voice and the relief at the news of Lelianas survival. As a calm breeze these words washed over him, taking away the pain and leaving only questions.

"An Inquisition? Why have they declared an Inquisition?"

Marquise chuckled politely, "Not even I know that dear Warden. Some say they are making a grab for power in the wake of chaos, some say they are doing the Makers bidding. They themselves claim that they aim to close the breach and end the war between mages and templars."

"The breach?"

"Oh, how silly of me. As I said, everyone at the Temple perished tragically. It happened through some powerful magic; the sky itself tore open above the ruins of the temple and horrid demons poured out of it."

He immediately thought back to the magical aberration in the forest and the demons that crawled out of it. What kind of magic could stretch so far across the land?

Aedan sat back into his chair. "Shit."

"These are trying times, which is why we must stick together if we aim to survive this chaos."

We? Who does she mean when she says that, I wonder.

"I am glad to hear that Sister Leliana survived the tragedy. I know you were close."

Were close? Just how well informed is she?

"We had our moments." He replied. "What about you, Your Grace? You must have many admirers." Aedan changed the subject.

"Oh, how crass monsieur Cousland." She flicked her hand coyly. "My lord husband Geraume is off fighting in the war."

"Under what banner if I may ask?" He probed.

"Grand Duke Gaspard of course. The rightful heir to the Imperial throne." She spoke up a little louder than before, grabbing the attention of several nobles who looked up as she said it.

After a brief moment of cordialities and chatter among the noblemen and women, Marquise Beatrix turned to Aedan once more. "I wanted to ask you Lord Commander, you and King Alistair fought in the Blight together, I always wanted to..."

The ball room doors slammed open loudly as a lull came over the present nobles. An man in full armor marched in stomping and clanking his armor. The steward was jaunting behind him trying to calm him down. The man took off his helmet and threw it agressively to the side.

"Where is this wretch?" he shouted out in a thick Orlesian accent as he scanned the room. Worried whispers and murmurs spread through the table.

"Where is she?" He shouted even louder this time as his voice silenced everyone else in the room. The clanging noise of the helmet spinning on the marble floor stopped and an uncomfortable silence spread through the ball room.

The Marquise broke it, "My dear brother! Fashionably late as always. Come, sit and enjoy the..." A chair scraped against the floor. Aedan glanced over as Roberta stood up as a woman who had been called for guilt on a trial, solemn but confident.

The knight looked her up and down and scoffed, "Dress up a filthy animal all you like, it will still be a filthy animal." Some quiet gasps and some quiet chuckles washed through the room.

"Bertran! That is quite enough!" Lady Beatrix raised her tone commandingly as her face sprung with embarassment behind the mask.

"This does not involve you, sister." He spoke back, still staring at Roberta.

Aedan saw as anger flushed the Marquises face, barely controlling herself, biting her lip to not say something she would regret.

The knight hastily undid his gauntlet and threw it towards Robertas feet. "You will pay for my brothers death! You will pay for what you did with blood!" He shouted out pointing at Roberta, grief and rage in his voice.

"Bertran, it was an accident." Beatrix interrupted.

"Accident?" He blurted out, outraged. "Incompetence! You swore to follow him, you swore to protect him with your life, you swore to die before he would! Yet here you stand, alive and my brother lay in the dirt, lifeless." His voice trembled as he spoke of Constance. Roberta just stood there, looking at the knight, hard and unbowing, tears welling up in her eyes. The idle chatter among the nobles died ot once again as an unnatural silence swelled in the room once more.

"It was my fault your brother died. Your quarrel is with me." Aedan spoke defiantly at Bertran.

Everyone in the room looked at the him in an instant with some surprised gasps as if this was a bloody play.

Roberta immediately stopped him, "No! Don't you dare Warden." Tears rolling down her cheeks now, voice trembling and the stoic facade cracking. She turned back to Bertran. "You are right cousin..."

"Don't you dare call me that." Venom and bitterness filled him as he interrupted.

"You are right." She continued, "I swore an oath, and I broke it. I will pay for it." Her head hung low as she tried to hide her face and she wiped her tears with her hand.

"You will." The knight replied, with a low threatening tone. "Midnight. Chateau foyer." He turned around hastily and stormed out of the room, the metal plates clanging through the silence. Roberta hastily and clumsily lumbered out of the ballroom through another door. The nobles quickly and aggressively resumed chatting between each other, while Marquise sat quietly and emotionlessly, taking a sip of her wine.

"Excuse me." Aedan got up and looked at his squire, "Come on kid." He followed commanders lead. Marquise did not react, attempting to appear unshaken, just sat there as if she was all alone in the room.

Aedan and Devin followed Roberta as she was hastily walking through the halls towards her quarters.

"Ser, what are we doing?" Devin asked worryingly.

"Helping Lady Roberta."

"How?"

A better question is why.

"I don't know yet."

She slammed the door to her room as the two men approached it.

"Roberta?" No answer, only feint sounds of activity in the room, metal.

"It will be easier if you let me in. I tend to be quite loud when ignored." A moment later the doors parted, she was not wearing the dress any longer. Instead leather pants and a tunic hung loosely as she was still adjusting it, some parts of a plate suit.

"What do you want warden?"

"What do you plan to do?" She did not answer, instead turning back into her room to continue putting on the armor.

"You don't have to throw your life away, you know?" She shot a bewildered look at the warden.

"I don't care about my life! I let them down! I failed them! I failed him." She roared in frustration.

Honor is more important to her than her own life. If she could keep her honor and lose her life, she would do it in a heartbeat. Why am I helping her? The bloody woman does not want to help herself. Yet the warden was compelled to redeem her. He looked to his squire. "Devin! What are you waiting for, the lady needs help with her armor."

Midnight was drawing ever closer. Roberta sat in the corner of the foyer under a painting, staring at the sword in her lap. Aedan and his squire sat on the opposite side of the hall. A bustle of horse hooves gathered outside the front doors. Aedan approached the woman and got on a knee, "Last chance. I can take this off your hands. It is as much my fault as yours."

"You know I can't do that warden." She answered unflinchingly. He knew she couldn't.

The front doors slammed open letting the moonlight and chilly night breeze wash into the halls. Several knights entered, Bertran in front, wearing a different set of armor than previous, and a greatsword on his back. He stormed in aggressively as the nobles began gathering from the ballroom like a pack of hyenas, no doubt to be the audience for the duel, how exciting it must be for them.

"I was half-expecting you to run away, like you did to my brother." Bertran snapped at her. Roberta quietly got up, calm and focused, poising herself for what's to come, sword in hand.

"Is this the famed chevalier nobility?" Aedan bitterly asked the man.

He just grimaced back at the warden, not saying a word.

The steward stepped up in between the two knights. "Madame Roberta. Lord Bertran. You have both agreed to an honorable duel..."

"To death." Bertran interrupted.

"As you say my lord. You are both allowed one set of arms and armor, no side weapons or daggers. Pick your weapons and may the Maker watch over you."

Bertran drew his greatsword, giving it a few swings as he lowered the visor on his golden feathered helmet. Roberta went to pick up her large metal shield, adorned with the Roche flower, and strapped it to her non dominant hand, holding the longsword in the other. Large shield might slow her down, but if she fends off and absorbs most of his swings deftly, he will tire out before her. The man is as big as her, and that's saying something. She has to stay focused and on the defensive, let the big guys rage wear himself down.

Roberta got in her stance. Shield hard in front, sword hand raised to her eye level, blade pointing outwards.

"Death before dishonor."

"Death before dishonor!" Bertran snapped back as an insult.

He immediately swung his greatsword, advancing at his opponent. Roberta retreated a step deftly, circling to the side as he went for another swing, she evaded it once again.

She needs to block the hits. A strong warrior can keep swinging his blade into the air for days, but if he keeps slamming it into a metal plate, that will wear him down much faster.

They danced back and forth for a while. Roberta kept to a defensive stance, stepping back and circling, occasionally making careful swings at her opponent. She was fighting very reservedly as she took several hits to her shield, staggering back, grunting as the impact washed over her. Maybe she hoped that Bertran would wear out, maybe she hoped to punish herself for her failure, to die with honor. Something wouldn't let her though, she kept fighting, kept defending against every blow coming towards her.

The Marquise quietly joined the onlooking crowd, still barely any emotion on her face. Hands pursed in front of her as she silently watched the duel.

"You coward! Aaah!" Bertran shouted swinging his sword, as Roberta backed off evading the attack. And another one after that slammed into her shield staggering her to the side.

"Is this what Constance saw with his dying eyes?" He swung again. Roberta repressed anger swelling up in her as she took another step back.

The man panted heavily as he went for another swing, "This is what he saw huh? Aaahhhh!" He slammed into her shield as she quickly raised it above her head.

"A coward! Backing off, running away!" He kicked her in the now defenseless chest. Roberta stumbled back. Either the impact or the words swelled some anger in her and she cried out as she went for a recklees swing that clanged off the mans greatsword.

"You are no chevalier! And you never will be!" He pushed the blade away swinging on her neck level, going for the kill. She deftly blocked it with the shield and thrust the blade into Bertrans chest. It sank right in between the plates at least four inches deep. Looked like it got him in the guts. He grunted in pain, stepping back as the sword turned red with blood. Trickles of it dripped on the floor while Bertran stumbled for a second. His opponent did not let down. With another shout she went for another wild downwards swing that was barely parried in time.

"You fucking whore!" Bertran spun with his greatsword stretched going for a powerful strike. It clanged off Robertas shield so loud, some of the nobles grabbed for their ears and gasped. The shield dented from the impact, but he didn't let down. He just kept slamming the blade at her. The unrelenting clashes stopped her from retreating and the shield was getting more dented with every strike while the man wielding it seethed with fury. Roberta cried out in pain, falling to one knee, shield still raised up but battered and dented. He broke her shield arm. She quickly got to her feet and stumbled back desperately avoiding another swing that clanged off the marble floors.

Roberta rushed to loosen the shield straps and drop it.

"I never understood why father took you in. A filthy mongrel! You are nothing like us." He spat out bitterly, touching his wound that was still dripping with fresh blood through the armor cracks and into his boot. Roberta let loose of her shield with another cry of pain, stiffly dropping her shield arm to the side like a broken branch. She stepped forward to swing at her cousin again. He parried the attack with one hand and grabbed her by the broken arm with the other. She cried out in pain as he twisted her shattered limb and slammed his helmet into her nose. As she stumbled back, blood poured out of her nose.

The crowd gasped.

Bertran took up his blade in both arms and swung with all his might going for another head swipe. Roberta quick on her feet, regained her focus and rolled under the flying blade, slashing at her opponents ankle. Blood splashed as his tendons ripped and he lost his balance in that leg for a second, regaining his footing and stumbling back.

"Everything was your fault you wench! You should have died in that fire along the rest of the filth!" The venom dripped from his mouth like the blood from his wound. Roberta cried out with rage and desperation, now recklessly running at the chevalier, sword raised. She slashed, but the man parried. She slashed again, he parried. She slashed a third time, it connected.

The crowd gasped again.

Come on, finish it!

Her blade sunk in through his shoulder blade down to almost his heart. She pulled it out, blood spattering as she did. She was still in rage. Another swing from the side was parried by Bertran, last breath effort. The greatsword clattered on the red marble floor.

Roberta panted heavily, eyes wide with adrenaline darting around but focused on her opponent.

"You filthy mongrel." Bertran blurted out. He clumsily picked up his sword, raised it above his head and with a blood, rage filled scream swung at his cousin. Her blade ran clean through his heart up to the hilt.

"Death before dishonor..." He blurted out, blood gargling in his throat as he stared into Robertas wide shock filled eyes.

The crowd gasped, followed by a deafening silence. An agonizing wail filled the halls.


	5. The Tracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resuming this story after a long hiatus. Hopefully going to continue.

A knock on his door woke him up. Aedan shuddered as he regained his conscience, sheets and his body covered in cold sweat.   
Another brash knock on his door.  
He grabbed a towel from the bedframe to wipe his face speaking through it. "Coming!"  
He grogily stumbled towards the door still regaining his faculties at the sudden awakening.   
Another knock. "Do that one more time and I will conscript you." He opened the door and instinctively looked to his own eye level only to meet a neck partially covered by armor. His eyes lazily looked up to meet the gaze of a woman he quite distinctly recognized.  
"Good morning Lady Roberta." He greeted her with mild surprise in his voice.  
"Commander Cousland. I would like to accompany you on your quest to hunt down the..." She looked down and turned her head to the side. "Please get dressed."  
"Where are my manners. My apologies, I wasn't expecting for a lady to visit me during waking hours." He swung the door back only to leave a small gap to be able to talk to her.  
"Carry on with what you were saying. Accompany me to hunt down the..." He prodded her while putting on his clothes.  
"As I was saying, I would like to accompany you on your quest to hunt down the rogue Warden Damon."  
"And why would you want to do that?"  
"That was my assignment before I... before Constance died. I gave an oath." Her tone was resolute and steadfast.  
"And you are not welcome at your house anymore." What could have come across as an insult sounded more like a concern.  
"That is not why I am doing this." She responded defensively.  
The door swung back open, Aedan was wearing his clothes and some armor with the backpack on his shoulders.   
He looked up at Roberta. "I know."  
He began walking downstairs to the empty morning tavern. "You are welcome to tag along."  
Her armored boots were following behind him. "Just like that?"  
"No, not just like that. You will have to fight and face whatever dangers there might be along the way."  
"I am ready for that." Conviction was in her voice same as before, unshaking.  
"Or we will go through long investigations and travels to uncover nothing at all. Who knows, right?"  
"I am aware of how bounty-hunting works, Commander."  
"You did successfully deliver me to the Wardens."  
"You came here willingly." She deflected.  
"You just won't take a compliment will you? Either way my lady, we should be on our way if we are to catch the traitor." Aedan ended the conversation as they reached the door where the young squire was already packing the gear onto horse saddles, no doubt up on his feet early on trying to impress Roberta or the Warden.

He was on the road again. Being on the move was comfortable, it felt safe. Since the Blight he never stayed in one place too long, never had the chance, never wanted to either. Being pulled in one direction or another by everyone who needed his attention and help, like he could solve all of their problems simply because he managed to kill a dragon one time. It was more complicated than that, but it never ceased to overwhelm him even so.

His best bet was to head further west. After they left Chateau Roche, Aedan and Devin dug through the Warden records with the castellans permission. The library had been partially burned and indistinguishable, but they left something behind – nothing. More precisely, some shelves were cleared of books not burned: records and notes of the Taint and Wardens who researched it. There could be only one reason for Damon to steal this knowledge, the same one that lead Aedan to Orlais.  
At first he sought the rumors of a warden who had supposedly been cured of the taint, but now the best bet was chasing down this Damon. Whatever he did has earned Clarel’s ire and may be dangerous enough that Aedan would have to find out about it.

If the traitor did steal from the Wardens before escaping he would try to get as far away from them as possible, and west is the only place without any warden activity, only abandoned fortresses. The lost glory of the Grey Wardens.

Three horses left the city gates early morning. Nobody protested and no goodbyes were said. Several letters reached Aedan from nobles trying to ingratiate themselves to him; promises of power, offers of deals and of course the flattery to make the most imperious of kings blush.   
The only one he did not hear from was Marquise Roche. He did not hear anything since the duel.   
What a mess. Roberta took the brunt of all of that, the embarrassment and shame. No matter how much she acted to not care for the Game and the whims of the nobles, she could not ignore all of it revolving around her. She was not welcome here anymore, it felt like she was walking on thin ice even before. Family rarely stays happy and stable, especially in these trying times.

Family. That word had lost its meaning to Aedan. Now it was different. Grey Wardens had become his family, yet he wanted something more: a warm hearth in a cozy house, children and his beloved by his side. That future was forsaken the moment Duncan stepped into his father’s castle, but a new one was granted. A future where he got to live and a future where he met people he could call just that – family.   
At first Aedan hated Duncan for using the tragedy to his advantage, vowing to save Aedan in exchange for conscription. A gamble. He didn’t know it then but now it all seemed much more clear, looking back at it. Now, he would have done the same.

They didn’t talk much during their ride west.   
Roberta was more dour and stoic than the day they met and with good reason, Devin was his shy self and Aedan for once didn’t have any snarky remarks to spit out. He was focused on the task ahead, reminded of his mortality by recent events. Finding the Warden was his only chance, the calling was on his heels.

He was in the dark stone tunnel again. The torches blue flame illuminating the oily, slick rock all around him. 

He heard it again, or was it the first time? A song. Discordant, cacophony of voices and hums. It was quiet, but intrusive, always at the back of his mind, lurking. Amidst all the alien voices he thought he could hear the voices of his parents, people he knew, loved. It only made it more sickening but he couldn’t get it out of his head. He could only move forward.   
The ceiling and walls were running with black oil. Some was dripping on his head and shoulders, touching the blue flame of the torch it sizzled an angry hiss and disappeared.  
He started hearing clatter and footsteps behind him now. Dozens or more, unrecognizable and chaotic but no other noise. Just footsteps. They were getting close now, his heart began to race. He quickly turned around, waving the torch in front to reveal the assailants but there was nothing there: no footsteps and no source of them.  
He turned back and began to walk forward again. The footsteps came back, skulking behind dreadfully. Aedan began to move faster. So did the footsteps. The song was growing louder in his head. He waved the torch behind him to maybe hit whoever was chasing him but it connected to nothing and the momentum of the swing spun him around, nearly knocking him off balance. He was sprinting now. No matter how fast he ran the chaotic pursuers did not relent or fall behind. The song was screaming in his head now. He shouted back, but he lost his voice mid-shout, gasping for air it all disappeared. 

He opened his eyes and knocked away the hand that was resting on his mouth.  
“You were shouting.” Roberta explained herself with slight concern. “Again.”  
He didn’t know what to say. Showing vulnerability to a stranger, even someone like Roberta wasn’t like him.  
“What time is it?”  
“Two or three hours from daylight ser.” Devin spoke up from his bedroll, woken up by the ruckus.  
“Get some rest. I will stay on watch until then.” Aedan said, getting up shaking off the sleep and realizing he was in cold sweat again under his clothes. He sighed annoyed.  
“If I may ser, you’ve been having these nightmares every night since we left…”  
“We are not talking about it Devin.” He interrupted his squire strictly. The kid was taken aback by this slightly.  
“He has a point Warden. It’s getting worse, whatever it is.” Roberta chimed in.  
“Get some rest. We will ride out at sunrise.” Aedan finished the conversation sitting down by the dim embers of the campfire.

His companions didn’t press the issue and went to sleep.  
I was too harsh with the kid. He hasn’t seen his parents and friends for over a month and the only one he knows here is a wise-ass Warden who treats him like shit.  
Aedan grabbed his journal, flipping to the last page he found what he was looking for – a small portrait drawing of the Bard. A young talented dwarf drew it in Orzammar, during one of the very few downtimes they had while wrestling the Blight.  
It was slightly faded by now, folded over many times but he could see her clearly, remember the young optimistic Orlesian girl that joined the Warden on his quest to save the world.  
Many years passed. She had changed but he stayed the same.

The sun shone through the verdant canopy, birds were chirping and the campfire had become a black pile of coals smoking lightly.   
The Warden scouted a crow perched on a tree branch, jerking its head scouting for a morning meal.  
“We should head out.”  
The crow flew off.  
“Yeah. Wake the kid, I don’t think we are close yet.” Aedan replied.  
“You keep saying that. We have just been heading west this whole time, they could be anywhere in the west. If they went west. How can you be so sure we are on the right path?”  
“I am not.” He said, realizing how dumb he must seem.  
“So you are just guessing?”  
“Pretty much.” He turned to look at her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Look, I will sense them once we get near enough. If not, well… this was our best shot. Nobody seems to know where they were headed.”  
“Warden, I can’t let this traitor warden escape. I promised.”  
And I will die if I don’t find him.  
“You have a better chance of finding him with a Warden by your side. We can sense each other same as Darkspawn.”  
“Which means the traitor will sense you as well.”  
Aedan smiled coyly. “There is also that. I might have an edge however, what with being a hero and all.” Avernus’ magic more like. His blood was different now, even from a wardens. Blood magic.   
He would be lying if he said it didn’t benefit him, didn’t help him save others and himself when in need. It gave him strength, durability, speed at the cost of those who gave their lives for Avernus’ research. Even if what he did was wrong Aedan couldn’t kill the old man, not when the Blight and a civil war were ravaging the country. Later, his research was what drove Aedan to pursue the cure. Avernus himself did not believe there was a way to cure taint, but Leliana did and that was enough for Aedan.

They were on the road again. Aedan was desperate to sense something, another warden even darkspawn, something that would tell him he was on the right path. The trio stopped at every village on the road, asking around about wardens, but it seemed that nobody has seen them here in years. ‘They don’t travel into the Western Approach much these days.’ The villagers spoke. However, several groups of men had been traveling through with carts filled with unknown goods, not saying much and not stopping to trade. Every person they asked had their own theory about who they were: bandits, grave robbers, deserters, rogue wardens. That last one was what he was hoping for.

The surroundings changed as they moved further west; lush grasslands changed into dry rolling hills, verdant forests into sharp-grass valleys. The trio followed a road up by a river valley. Barely any soldiers of either side could be seen now, only sparse men and women wearing no distinguishable armor skulking by the road side or dallying in taverns – deserters. No one paid them any mind or made any protests, people this far away from the conflict simply didn’t care. Roberta did, he could see it in her eyes – the disdain and judgement. She was in the military, but was loyal to her family first, before any Empress or Usurper. Still, the cowardice of these deserters made her resent, them or herself, Warden wasn’t sure.  
Roberta hadn’t mentioned what happened in Montsimmard since the night of the duel, the wound was still sore. Talking about it wouldn’t change anything, she was like Aedan in that regard, she sought action and results over words of comfort.

Another day, another solemn village and the paved road ahead of them. Nothing seemed to change. He had a nightmare last night, same as the night before. He was running out of time.  
It feels like my time is running out, yet it also feels different than how the older Wardens described it. The song, something about it felt un-natural; not darkspawn un-natural, different than that. Like a child attempting to play a song on the lute to mimic his father doing the same. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe I am just following the call into the Deep Roads right now unbeknownst to myself. Wouldn’t that be ironic?  
His head stung in pain suddenly. He closed his eyes almost instinctively.

Dread. It’s dark. The dark, mossy stones all around, like a prison. I hear the clattering down the hallway.   
Oh maker, it’s only a matter of time before they find me.  
Betrayed. Left alone. If only I could see him again. My love.

Aedan shook his head, blinking frantically.  
That wasn’t a darkspawn.  
“Ser, are you alright?” Devin asked, worried.  
“Warden?” Roberta followed.  
“We might be onto something, come on!” He spurred his horse and rode off the beaten path, down the hill into the river valley. He got the scent, now he only needed to follow it, but it wasn’t as easy. No matter how much you hone the ability to sense the taint, it didn’t get any more precise than direction. It was usually within a mile, two if lucky.

The party of three rode down the hill, leaving a trail of dust and beaten grass behind them as the horses trotted through the gravely dirt.

“What are we looking for?” Roberta shouted out behind him over the beating of the hooves.  
“A ruin of some kind maybe. In that direction.” He pointed south. “It’s humid and damp, must be close by the river, underground.”  
“It could be an old Tevinter ruin, or maybe Elven if it’s underground by the river.” Devin spoke up. Didn’t matter. What mattered was the warden inside of it.

They rode up the riverside as it cut through stone quietly, mingling with the birds chirping and tree leaves rustling. Aedan felt it growing closer, he closed his eyes again. Same sensation of fear and anger. Darkness and stones all around, no sounds but a faint clattering and hushed, broken breath and a faint heartbeat. He was close, he felt it.

“Ser!” Devin shouted out from behind.  
“Quiet down!” Aedan urged. “What is it?” He turned the horse around to meet his squire.  
“Look there. A faint light behind the shrubs.”  
Aedan looked. He was right, a blueish light tingled through the leaves and branches off towards the cliff side.  
“Sharp eyes kid.” Roberta said riding past, towards the light.  
“Don’t. You’ll make him go red with flattery, dead giveaway of our position.” The kid was easy to blush. Roberta wasn’t the prettiest lady, far from it, but a damn good knight and praise from her was worth a lot for the kid.  
“Speaking of, how many are there?” Roberta asked.  
“Just one warden, can’t speak for bandits, demons and other assholes. Excuse my Orlesian.”  
“You don’t know Orlesian well, Warden.”  
“As astute as ever my lady.”  
She didn’t respond, only rode towards the dim light. Aedan and Devin followed close by carefully.   
They dismounted and tied their horses to a nearby tree. Warden lead the way with his sword drawn, parting the vines and branches that were hiding the light – a torch, burning a green and blue flame, resting in an iron sconce within a black stone archway built into the side of the cliff.  
“Magic.” Roberta announced quietly, as Aedan grabbed the torch with his free hand.  
“Veilfire.” Devin explained. “It’s elven magic. This looks like an elven ruin, like in the books.”  
“Is Damon a mage?” Roberta asked.  
“The steward back in Montsimmard didn’t mention of it. Could be, could be one of his followers is a mage, either way we should be extra careful. Mages are not to be trifled with, especially Warden Mages.” Aedan answered. He had fought many mages in his time, most of them darkspawn. A human mage was more dangerous however, more sophisticated and cunning. Aedan could endure through a few spells. Both Avernus’ magic and Wyvern blood he consumed helped, but it was better off to avoid any attacks. An enchanted sword was just as good at deflecting a fireball as a shield, a sort of magnetic quality that propelled the magic off of it. Required some skill and precision however. Wynne taught him most of that, among everything else she did for the Wardens and the cause. She was one of the strongest people he had ever met, carried many burdens and never complained.  
I hope she is well.

“Warden!” Roberta urged quietly, pointing within the dark stone stairway leading down into the ruin. Two legs were peeking from behind a corner at the bottom of the stairs, faintly visible from the daylight and torchlight. He descended down the rickety stairs carefully, torch stretched ahead to light the way. His vision adjusted and he could see it clearly now, that was a person. Likely dead, unless they decided to take a nap in a crumbling ruin.  
He turned the corner and looked down after checking the corners for anyone else. There were no sounds except for the quiet footsteps of his companions behind him. The person laying on the ground was dead, several slashes across their back, face down on the stone floor. She was dressed in traveling clothes, nothing stood out. Her hand was stretched out towards the wall and a smear of blood arced down it glistening green and red in the torchlight, dry like old paint.  
She was on her way out before she died, probably escaping whoever did her in.  
Devin looked nervous, looking at the dead body. He had seen dead people before but there was something unnerving about these circumstances; mysterious, dark and foreboding.  
“Is this the warden you sensed?” Roberta asked.  
“No…” He reached down to touch the gash on the dead woman’s back and brought it up to his nose to smell it. It smelled metallic but more heavy and pungent. Tainted blood. “… but she was a Warden.”  
“So we are on the right track.” She said with conviction and relief.  
“Yeah.” Aedan wasn’t as relieved.  
“That’s good isn’t it ser?” Devin asked, pulling up his arm to his face to block away the smell of death.  
“Well, something killed this warden and the other one, who is still alive, seemed to be in distress. All we might find is more corpses.”  
“We should be careful. Whoever killed her, might still be here. There are a lot of chaotic foot-prints all over, signs of battle.” Roberta pointed at the ground leading deeper in. “We should hurry.” She continued after a pause of consideration.  
“We can agree on that. Devin, you should stay outside, guard the horses and keep a lookout.”  
“But, Commander I can be of help.” The kid protested, forgetting the nauseating smell.   
“I know you want to help, but down here? No telling of the dangers, I may not be able to protect you.”  
He looked insulted by that comment. The shy squire was gone now his pride came out. “Ser, I’ve been reading books on elven lore and I can help guide you through the ruin. It might take you longer without me and what if this warden dies before you reach him?”  
Roberta chuckled at the sudden bravery. “The kid has been reading the whole way here.”  
“Alright.” Aedan admitted in defeat as the two grouped up against him. “You will watch him and make sure he doesn’t go spelunking off on his own and if the horses get stolen or killed I will make you run to the nearest town alone and bring us new ones.”  
He turned to head deeper into the ruin, following the signs of conflict in the sand.   
“Follow close.” Roberta urged the squire as she lit her own torch.

They made their way through the partially collapsed halls of the elven ruin. Cracked and indistinguishable mosaics covered the walls, rubble and all manner of ancient trash was lying around them, some more recent, some very recent. They passed several other mangled corpses lying amidst clattered bones that were scattered across the sand and dust.  
The three travelers kept as quiet as possible, looking behind them every once in a while, carefully moving forward.  
“So, my scholarly squire, would you like to share some ancient elven wisdom to get us where we need to be?”  
“Uhm, this looks like the main hall. The mosaics depict the Elven gods, can’t tell which is which though. I think this is a temple, or was rather. Look.” He pointed to a mosaic that was relatively undamaged. “This is Falon’Din – the god of death and fortune. You can tell by the crooked staff in his hands.”  
“How does this help us exactly?”  
“Oh, it doesn’t I suppose… but if this is a temple and we are in the main hall, straight ahead should be the prayer room, or the sacrifice room. Not sure which is right.”  
“Well, the warden I am sensing is certainly deeper in, but it’s hard to tell with the winding hallways here, where to go.”  
“There should be catacombs or burial sites somewhere too, maybe that’s where the warden is hiding.”  
Roberta chimed in – “If this wardens comrades died trying to escape, then he may be hiding out as far away from the exit as possible. Maybe he couldn’t get to the exit, or was abandoned.”  
“Right, this is great help.”  
That warden is dying. His panic is changing to acceptance. He is giving up.  
Aedan broke into a jog, running straight ahead avoiding the rubble and bones scattered all across the floor.  
“Warden!” Roberta hounded at him, but followed suit. “Wait!”  
He ignored her, he had to find this. He was the only one alive. If he dies, Aedan will have no other leads. Back on the road, aimlessly searching and hoping for blind luck.  
“Wait, Commander!” The squire spoke. “Look, here. It’s another mosaic.”  
“We don’t have time for art Devin.”  
“No it’s different, it’s a depiction of a frame or a mirror.”  
A mirror?   
That gave warden pause. He stopped considering for a second.  
Could it be?   
The thought of Morrigan passed through his mind, a fleeting memory of the last time he saw her as she disappeared through that bloody mirror - an elven artifact that she had found. For what purpose? Of course no-one but her knew that.  
“What do you mean a mirror?” Aedan back-tracked to Devin and the mosaic he was staring at. It was a large black iron door, rusted, but the engraving on it did indeed depict a mirror, vaguely similar to the one he saw with Morrigan. The engraving was also depicting several elven figures gathered around it.  
“Why does it matter?” Roberta was puzzled.  
“It might be an Eluvian. Well it has to be, right, behind this door?” Devin explained.  
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Roberta continued.  
Aedan was getting impatient with this impromptu history lesson. “They are magical elven mirrors that apparently work as some sort of doorways. Point is, they are very rare. I ran into one a long time ago, now there is one in this ruin that we found dead wardens in.”  
“So you think they were looking for a magical doorway? Why?”  
“Escape? Hide away from those who would look for them.”   
That’s why she did it wasn’t it? I let her go, that’s what she wanted.  
“Alright warden. I’ll trust you with this.”  
“I appreciate it my lady.” He quipped back sarcastically.  
“Please don’t call me that.”

He tried to push the double doors open, they were heavy but not rusted. Recently used. Roberta helped and soon the doors were open to reveal a large chamber with partially collapsed columns hugging the sides of the spacious room. The torchlight couldn’t reach the other end, all that was beyond the light was pitch black darkness.  
“Stay close Devin.” Roberta nudged the kid, getting in a stance as she followed the warden by his side.  
Her instincts are on point. This seems fishy. Whoever killed the wardens might very well be still here, and this would be the time to strike.

Yet there was nobody else here. Certainly no wardens at least. Just dead bodies and bones.  
Ah shit!  
A clatter of bones behind them and in front. All around them now.  
“Get in between us Devin! Undead!”  
Roberta and Aedan got on either side of the squire, swords pointing out. Through the glimmer of green and yellow light of their torches they could see them now. Shadows twisting and turning as the clattering of bones turned into a cacophonous melody all around them. Skeletons – with rags of cloth and strips of rotten flesh hanging off of them, some with armor or weapons, some not at all, but all of them intent on one thing only – the three living beings in the middle of the chamber.  
Aedan swung at the first one to approach and smashed its skull into dust and bone fragments with a loud crack, Roberta did the same. More followed and more fell. Even the ones that fell, soon got back up and crawled towards the living, it didn’t matter if they were missing arms or legs, they were relentless.  
Devin took stabs at some of them clumsily.  
Shouldn’t have brought the bloody kid down here.  
More of the undead poured in from where they came from, the exit. Not just skeletons now, the dead Wardens came stumbling in like revenants intent on murder as they moaned in pain and fury.  
“We have to push through them Warden!” Roberta shouted out as she took a swing at another skeleton’s skull.  
“No! We have to push forward!”  
“Are you mad? We need to get the kid out of here!”  
“No. I am fine, we have a mission.” Devin did not sound too sure of himself even as he said that.  
“We have a better chance from there. The Eluvian or the rogue Warden, maybe another way out, if we… Ah!” A sword slashed Aedan’s side with a deep cut, he retaliated in anger, clattering the bones of his assailant across the floor.  
“Ser! Are you alright?”  
“Run! Get to the other end of the chamber. Now!” Devin and even Roberta complied, there was no time to argue. The trio ran straight ahead, revealing more of the room with their torches, more undead, stumbling menacingly towards them from all sides. They slashed through some that got too close while they sprinted as fast as they could.   
A door, finally.  
“Go, open it! I will hold them off.” Roberta shouted, turning on her heel some feet away from their salvation.  
Aedan pushed as hard as he could, the wound in his stomach strained as he forced the heavy door open.  
“Get in Devin.” He turned to Roberta who was slashing left and right toppling the undead monsters with every swing. “Come on! Get inside!”   
She did not respond, all she did was swing at her enemies and cry out in rage with every swing she took.  
Stubborn woman!  
He ran up to her and pulled her heavy frame by the shoulder back towards the doorway, taking a swing at one of the skeletons as he did.  
“Get inside!”   
The momentum carried her towards the opened doorway and the two warriors made it in, closing the door behind them. They blocked it as best they could, with rubble and whatever happened to luck sturdy enough.  
They were safe now, but the undead were pushing and clanging relentlessly against the door.   
“They will get through eventually.” Roberta pointed out.  
“We better hurry then. You ok Devin?”  
“Yes ser. You got wounded.” He remembered.  
“It’s fine. It will heal quick enough.”  
Benefits of the blood magic.  
Wounds healed quicker, even serious ones.  
“You are the Hero of Fereldan after all.” Roberta snapped nonchalantly.   
“Hey, I am not immortal so don’t get used to me taking all the pain. Speaking of, what the hell was that back there?”  
“I was covering you. You had to open the door.”  
That wasn’t it, she wanted redemption. Now isn’t the time to talk about it.  
“Try to hold off your death-wish for a while longer, we still need to find the rogue Warden.”   
She did not respond. Roberta picked up her torch and began looking around vigilantly. Didn’t take long before they saw it – a large mirror engraved with rusted vines and embellishments along its frame, standing on a pedestal with stairs leading up to it.   
“Ser, look! The Eluvian.” Devin announced, pointing at the imposing object.  
“Yes, I almost missed it. Thank you squire.” Aedan responded sarcastically.

He could feel the Warden close by. Very close.   
“HEY! Living here! I know you are here!” Aedan shouted and his words echoed throughout the room. The undead almost tried to match the shouts with their own screeches from behind the door as they kept bashing it down.  
“Over here.” A weak voice sounded out from the west of the room.  
“At least your shouting can’t wake any more of the dead.” Roberta said unamused.  
“One can only hope.”

They made their way to the source of the stranger’s voice. It lead them to a wooden door, blasted off its hinges slanted to cover the archway it once belonged to.   
Aedan pushed the door, making his way inside and illuminating the small side room with green light. A man wearing simple leather armor and traveling clothes slumped against the side of the wall, holding onto his chest. Scarlet red blood glistened all over his clenched glove and lower body as he sat in a pool of his own blood.  
“Huh, I guess the bitch did send one of our own to hunt us down.” The rogue warden snapped at Aedan bitterly.  
“Clarel?”  
“Oh there is no need to pretend. I am a dead man already, at least now you will die here with me.” He almost chuckled, but was interrupted by a sudden pain and coughed some blood into his hand.  
“So what, you came all the way here just to escape Clarel?” Aedan questioned.  
“What? Why would you be here, if not on Clarel’s orders? Who are… you know what?” He coughed more blood, “I don’t care.”  
Aedan kneeled down, to meet the dying wardens eye level just as Roberta and Devin entered to witness the encounter.  
“Are you Warden Damon?” Roberta asked bluntly to the dying man.  
“What bounty hunters then? Bad deal you got yourself in.” He replied.  
“No this isn’t Damon. He isn’t here is he?”  
The rogue warden met Aedan’s eyes and there was rage in them. He clenched his teeth, but didn’t respond.  
“What, he left you here?” he continued to prod.  
“Go to hell!” He spat some blood at his feet.  
Aedan sighed, looking back at his comrades, then back to the warden. “We are not with Clarel. I am Commander Cousland, and we are here on our own mission.”  
“The bloody Hero of Ferelden? I’d kneel, but I can’t feel my legs your grace.” He spat out bitterly.  
“You have to be the most indignant dying man I’ve ever met.”  
“Wouldn’t you be? …” That struck a nerve with him, “…If your Senior Warden betrayed you and discarded you like you were nothing? Whatever it takes, even the ones following you, trusting you with their lives. He is no better than the bitch Clarel. Just like her.”  
“Did he get the mirror back in the chamber working?” Aedan asked.  
“Where did he go? We will bring justice to Warden Damon if you help us find him.” Roberta said. The warden looked up at the imposing woman, sizing her up and wagering her words.  
“Yeah you probably would try. He will kill you though.” He looked back down, defeated, groaning in pain.  
“Hey! Don’t die on me. We need to find Damon. Whatever Clarel did, whatever injustice, if we get out of here, I will notify the Warden Command.”  
“They wouldn’t trust us. Damon said…” Another bloody cough, “Damon said, they would trust her. She has a plan, to stop the Calling for good… but not like this.” His eyes started glazing over as his voice was fading.  
“Hey! What is Clarel planning? What about Damon? We need your help!” Aedan’s voice was urgent. He needed answers.  
“She is mad… a deal with…” he coughed again and blood trickled down his chin, heavy and dark. “Tell my… tell… I love him…” 

Aedan rubbed his eyes, frustrated.  
“He is dead.” He announced matter-of-factly as he stood up to leave the room.  
“Shouldn’t we burry him, or…”  
“There is no time. We are already in a bloody tomb anyway.” Aedan interrupted his squire.  
“What now? All we got was that Damon isn’t here.” Roberta said.  
“No, now we know that Clarel is doing something stupid enough to make other Wardens turn on her. We also know that Damon isn’t above blood magic.”  
“The undead?”  
“Probably not what he intended, no reason to mindlessly kill his own to summon undead. Only one reason to use blood magic here.”  
Is that how you opened your Eluvian, Morrigan?  
“The Eluvian.” Devin finished.  
“We don’t have a mage.” Roberta pointed out.  
“Maybe we don’t need one.” Aedan went back into the side room and pulled the rogue wardens corpse out. He dragged it up the stairs leading to the mirror.  
“What are you doing Warden?”   
“Wherever Damon went is through the mirror, we need to activate it.” He explained as he cut his wrist with a dagger, forcing the tainted blood out and onto the mirror. Dark red and black clots of blood began coalescing across the uneven surface of the Eluvian, shifting in patterns in whirls.   
“Ser!”  
“Relax. I know what I am doing.” He said as vertigo hit him and he started feeling dizzy. He balanced himself with his hands against the mirror, pressing his palms into the thick blood.   
He felt two hands grab him by the shoulders, stabilizing him, he looked back to meet the face of Roberta. Steely gazed and determined.  
Suddenly the pressure against his hands was gone and he lost balance. Nearly fell over if not for Roberta helping him. The misty, cracked surface of the mirror shone with bright white light, dazing the three travelers. They stepped back to look upon the ancient elven magic in effect.  
“I wonder if the ancient elves knew someone who isn’t a mage could activate these things.” Devin wondered out loud.  
Aedan grabbed the body of the dead warden, took off his glove and bit into his wrist as he sucked the blood out. The numbness slowly faded and dizziness disappeared. After half a minute he pulled back, wiping his mouth, with a grimace on his face.  
You never get used to this.  
“That is absolutely disgusting.” Roberta shook her head.  
“I know.”   
Aedan drained some of the blood from the wrist into an empty vial. He looked back at the barricaded door behind them, remembering the undead who were still trying to get through.  
“Alright. No going back.” He looked at his companions to await a response.  
“If Damon is on the other side, you know my answer Warden.”  
“Can we forget about me running to get new horses promise ser?” Devin asked almost nervously.  
“Forgotten.” Aedan slapped the squire’s shoulder. “Come on.”

They passed through the glowing light as a cold sensation engulfed them for a brief second. A chill, dry air met them on the other side. Welcome change from the damp, heavy stench of the ruin.  
What they saw all around them now was strange but not unfamiliar. It was hard to tell if they were indoors or outdoors. The air was chilly and clear but there was no wind, it felt unnatural.  
It could be Fade, but it seems too normal, too much like our world, unlike the nightmare I experienced at the Circle Tower all those years ago.  
There was mist all around, obscuring vision slightly and mirrors, so many mirrors, like the one Aedan just used and the one Morrigan stepped through. All of them were cracked, toppled over or ruined completely. What was most unnerving was the lack of any sounds but the ones Aedan and his companions were making as they slowly moved through this strange new world.  
“This is weird.” Roberta grumbled.  
“This is amazing. Is this the Fade? The dream world?” Devin contradicted. He did seem amazed by this magical place as he curiously looked around.  
“Amazingly weird… I don’t think we are in the fade.” Aedan answered.  
“For someone who isn’t a mage, you sure know a lot about magic Warden.”  
“It comes with experience.”  
“Right.”  
Aedan kneeled down to touch the ground. A footprint shape was lodged in the sand. He ran his finger through it, it felt smoother and finer than the sand around.   
“Looks like they walked this way.” He pointed ahead, following the trail left by the Wardens.

They walked in silence, Aedan leading the way, tracing the steps of those who came before.   
I wonder if she is still here. Hiding out here, raising her… our child, just like her mother – secluding herself and the child from the outside world. No, she couldn’t, no matter how she felt about the kid, she wouldn’t follow the footsteps of her ‘mother’. How old would the kid be now? Ten years old. It’s gonna be an awkward meeting, if I ever meet her again.

“Wait.” He heard Devin’s voice faintly behind him. He turned back to see the squire standing some twenty feet behind staring into the open space, mesmerized and curious look on his face.  
“Devin.” The warden called out as he made his way back towards him.  
He looked to where the kid was staring, but couldn’t see anything beyond a thick mist, ruined mirrors and pillars.  
“Hey, kid! Who are you talking to?”  
“I… don’t know. I thought I saw someone, behind a pillar. They looked at me… or they didn’t. I’m not sure.”  
Aedan looked again, more intently now, searching the landscape for any human figures but there was no one there.  
“What did they look like?”  
“I don’t remember… uhm. Maybe it wasn’t a person.” The kid sounded delirious. He was definitely confused, like he had been clocked in his head trying to remember something.  
“Could it be Damon?” Roberta caught up to the other two.  
“No, the tracks lead straight ahead.”   
It can’t be her. The kid must be seeing things, or worse yet, someone is seeing them, watching.  
“Come on kid, let’s go.” Aedan nudged his squire ahead.

They kept following the tracks in silence. Aedan was more vigilant now, in case someone was indeed watching them. He felt paranoid, like he needed another thing to worry about.  
“I think it was a wolf?” Devin said quietly, questioning himself, still unsure and confused. Now it just seemed ridiculous, the place must have been playing tricks on him.

Soon, they reached something different. Another mirror cut through the mist. This one wasn’t cracked or damaged, it stood tall among the rest of the rubble and ruin.   
“Here we are. All those faint of heart turn your backs.” He cut his wrists again and activated the mirror. It shone with bright light and the trio passed through back into the real world.

Hot, dry air touched his skin and another dark ruin welcomed him. Different than the last one, architecture and the feeling was all different. He looked back at the mirror as his companions passed through adjusting to their surroundings. The Eluvian stood out in this place as a sore thumb, like it didn’t belong here.  
He could see the daylight from here shining down a stairwell that was leading to the outside. Aedan lead the way, passing rubble and blocking his eyes from the exceedingly bright sun that shone through the crushed horizontal doorway.  
They definitely passed through here.

Outside, looking around all they saw was endless dunes of sand. A giant expanse shimmered through heat of the sun in the distance – a scar that cut through the land itself, bleeding its taint.


	6. The Betrayed

The scorching sun and cold moon of the desert had worn him out, but he had a goal now; he was on the hunt. Five days of travel with nothing but the sand dunes around them and the ever looming sight of the Abyssal Rift in the distance. Luckily Devin had brought several maps of the area. They didn’t help much what with the wasteland they found themselves in but there was a river valley; that is where they were heading – civilization, however small or unlikely that’s where the rogue warden was headed if he exited the Eluvian.

It occurred to them that the mirror they entered was in an elven ruin but the other one was in a dwarven ruin within a desert, likely hidden by the sands until the Wardens blasted their way out. Perhaps it lay there for hundreds of years undisturbed or maybe more recent, they didn’t know.

Roberta was as restless as Aedan, she wanted to fulfill the promise she made to a dead man who treated her with disdain from a family who resented her.

Devin was nervous, but he carried himself with posed dignity, he didn’t want to disappoint. Whatever happened in the strange realm of the mirrors had left a mark on him, whatever or whoever he saw lingered in his mind yet he couldn’t explain it; like an old childhood dream. He was fascinated by the elven artifact they found however; reminded Aedan of Morrigan, if Morrigan were a teenage boy born to a noble family. The strangest similarity.

 

Six days in they could see the verdant tint on the horizon – the river valley. The Derone River flowed down from Gamordan Peaks into Lake Celestine just past the Abyssal Rift, a branch of it even broke off into the expanse itself. If the rogue wardens went there, if anyone went there, the river folk would know. Even so, Aedan felt like he was lagging behind, hoping to catch up to these traitors.

 

He had gotten to know Roberta better through these travels. One night after some wine she shared some of her childhood with him, reminiscing out loud if only for herself. She wasn’t born into nobility, her family had the name but none of the prestige; distant cousins of the main line. Roberta lived in the countryside, far from the city until her parents died – something that was still a sore subject for her even if it did happen in her childhood. That was when the Roches of Montsimmard took the orphaned girl in for good or ill.

Bits of it reminded Aedan of his own childhood, he told her of the betrayal by Rendon Howe and how he was thrust into the Wardens without really wanting to. Some of it he hadn’t told most people but felt safe telling it to her, like she wouldn’t pry or judge. Things they called him a hero for that only happened by chance or luck, but that would make a poor story. Who would like to hear that the Hero of Ferelden saved Redcliffe and its Arl because he was desperate for their support in the Blight and against Loghain. Much of what he did was personal and by the promise he made to his father – a promise of vengeance. The rest was the expectations of those around him; the only two Wardens in Ferelden and everyone looked to them to save the entire bloody country from a darkspawn horde. Yet they did, then one was stuck to the throne and the other stuck to lead the wardens. Lead them to what? A certain death, it felt like.

 

The band of three soon had the reprieve of reaching a more lush environment. Finally out of the desert they began seeing people – traders, farmers, mercenaries. They pointed them to the nearest village not asking many questions and not answering much in return. They barely had any idea of what was going on outside of their bubble.

_Ignorance is bliss I suppose._

The villagers seemed content with their lot, living their simple lives happily ignorant of the big world around them and the political machinations of the nobility that ruled them from leagues away.

 

“We should ask around the docks, they travel mostly down and up the river in the desert.” Roberta advised.

So they did. A surprising amount of boats were at the port, mostly shipping down the river towards the heart of the Empire, transporting food, metals and salvage. A good amount of them were archeologists sending their finds from the Gamordan Peaks and the Abyssal Rift.

 

The port master told Aedan of a group of mercenary folk traveling upriver, they weren’t researchers or traders by the looks and not much use for soldiers so far away. He suspected that they were agents sent by the Empress to hunt down the horned giants hiding out further west.

 

“Qunari so far in Orlesian lands?” Roberta questioned.

The port master indulged her with an answer, “Yes, monsieur. The strangest thing. Most of us have not seen one in our lives, only tales of their savage and strange ways and here they arrive in a group of dozens no less. This bodes ill, no? Civil war, qunari, assassins. Even some strange elf with them, gave me the shivers with her eyes. I tell you, these noble struggles get to the furthest corners of the world.” He wiped his face, sweaty from the tropical heat. “Pah, listen to me ramble. I imagine you wish to take the boat upriver as well, monsieurs?”

“Boat for three.” Aedan responded with a smile.

“So it shall be.”

 

None of the trading skiff captains had space or will to take on passengers, but once prompted with some gold one of them agreed. A Fereldan man named Gelder; didn’t look very reputable but then again none of them did. Aedan felt he knew the man from back in Ferelden, but when inquired, the man admitted to have been living on the road since he was a child. He was transporting crated goods up the river to a village called Wellbrook near the base of the mountains. The glint of gold made him happy to take on three passengers up the river, no questions asked.

 

The trio was given some space among the cargo where the rest of the crew made their sleeping quarters. The small trading skiff traveled light with only eight other men manning the oars. The travel upriver promised to be quiet and safe at least for the time being, large rain clouds gathered in the far distance. Warden stayed topside most of the time and this Gelder was a chatty fellow, talked a lot without saying much. He had a colorful life by the sound of it. Always on the move, on the road or sea since he was a kid. The man was fairly open about his shady past even; did some smuggling in the Free Marches and the Waking Sea.

 

Roberta approached the Warden as he was sitting on the side of the boat, looking out into the shore, searching for something.

“What do you intend to do when we find him?” She asked.

Aedan looked around the boat. The men were oaring the boat ahead out of earshot, the captain was in his cabin no doubt same as Devin.

“Talk, mostly.” Warden replied.

“As long as I get to bring him back to Montsimmard to face justice you two can talk as much as you like.”

“Just try to hold off when we meet them about your reason to seek them out. He might not be too forthcoming if you threaten him.”

“Well, you said it Warden, I am stubborn.” She walked to the front of the boat and sat herself vigilantly to look ahead.

Aedan soon retreated to his quarters, wading off sleep as long as he could even as the sun sunk into the horizon. He was reluctant to sleep. He spent what seemed like hours re-reading his old journal, reminiscing about the past, lost in thought. Eventually his eyes glazed over and he dozed off hoping that for a dreamless rest.

 

He woke up to a sound of commotion coming from above, arguments and struggle.

“… put the dagger away and step back!” He heard Roberta’s gruff uncompromising voice.

“I was going to ask you the same you big oaf.” Another voice spoke back, familiar.

Aedan grabbed his sword belt and moved up tightening it around his waist as he passed Devin who was waking up. He put his finger to his mouth telling the kid to keep quiet as he slowly opened the door to peek outside. Four men were lying dead with blood coating their bodies and some weapons scattered on the wood below them. The other four were huddled towards the back end of the boat, some glancing at the door and Aedan quietly. The commotion was coming from above and behind him, towards the front end of the boat. He could do nothing but reveal himself, maybe solve this by talking.

Aedan parted the door and peeked over to look at the scene of commotion, with his sword in hand.

“No one in the bloody cargo huh Gelder?” The familiar female looked at Aedan. “Warden?” She spoke in disbelief and anger.

“Isabela.”  Aedan responded amused.

“You’re working with this backstabbing imbecile?” She asked clenching the dagger closer to Gelder’s throat as he laughed nervously.

“I thought I recognized you. Well, your name apparently.” He looked at Gelder who was at Isabela’s mercy, while Roberta was ready to pounce with her weapon drawn once the hostage was unhanded. “Roberta, my lady, put the sword down will you?”

“Yeah you do that.” Isabela hissed at her.

“Warden.” Roberta said sternly, not letting up or letting her eyes off the rogue.

“Alright, Isabela. Why are you here?”

“What does it look like? I’m here for this rat faced bastard.” She kneed Gelder in his thigh.

“Is that why you killed these four men and attacked me?” Roberta asked.

“Oh please, you attacked me first. Didn’t know the mighty Hero of Ferelden was here with his bodyguard working for backstabbing river weasels.”

“We are not working for him.” Aedan corrected.

“With him, on him, under him. Details. Why are you here then?”

“Hunting criminals.” Aedan answered.

“Well, you got one here.” She kneed him in the same spot as Gelder cried out in dissatisfaction.

“You don’t get to judge assassin.” Roberta snapped back.

“Muzzle it big girl.”

“Stop!” Warden interrupted, “Let’s just put our weapons down and talk this through.” He fully emerged from the cargo cabin, sheathing his blade and putting his hands out in a sign of peace.

“No can do, Warden. Gelder dies and I walk, that’s how this goes.”

“Oy, wait wait wait… you don’t want to kill me.” Gelder pleaded. “I got what you want Isabela, the gold we stole, it’s still here with me.”

“A thief too.” Roberta pointed out.

“Pirate actually, semi-retired.” Isabela corrected, then turned her attention to Gelder. “Then I guess you can tell me where it is and maybe you get to live.”

“No darlin’, I tell you and I get to go about my business. How about it? Smuggler’s honor.” He smiled a crooked smile, dagger still bulging at his throat.

“No! No business for you. You are turning this poor excuse for a ship around with all your cargo. Also, no such thing as smuggler’s honor you moron.”

That got the Warden’s attention. “Why is that?”

Isabela looked at him curiously. “They don’t even have a code of honor, all they do is transport stolen goods.”  
“No Isabela, why do you want the cargo?”

“Oh! Shit, of course you didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Aedan continued prodding.

“This scumfuck is transporting slaves. Aren’t you big boy?” She kneed him once again.

“What?” Roberta exclaimed, tensing up her stance.

“Uhh… heh. Look this is all a big misunderstand…” He grunted in pain as Isabela’s knee found his ribs.

“Slaves?” Aedan looked down in thought. “Where to?” He asked as he approached the captive captain, hand on his sword hilt.

“Ahh, look this is awkward. I didn’t know you was the Hero of Ferelden and all. I really respect all you’ve done for us and…”

“Where are you sending these slaves?” Aedan repeated more harshly.

“Look, I want to tell you alright, but I want to live too. I gotta know you will let me go if I help you. I was doing a job you see no questions asked. Same for you, right? I got a family I gotta feed.”

“No you don’t you shitbrain.” Isabela smirked at him, “All you’ve got is your family jewels and once I’m done with you that will be the end of that family.”

Gelder laughed nervously, “Mmm… look Warden… Hero, sir, just promise I get to live and I tell you where the cargo is going, I’ll even throw in back half what you paid me for travel.”

“Family jewels Gelder.” Isabela whispered in his ear, lowering her other dagger down his chest.

“Ok! Ok! Just take everything it’s in a lockbox under the bed. Andraste’s tits, just let me go alive and with my balls and all.” He cried out in defeat, trying to wiggle out of Isabela’s grasp uncomfortably.

“Tell me everything and I don’t kill you. You get to live… unmolested.” He looked at Isabela with concern. She looked back with restrained contempt. She really had it in for this guy, it was personal to her.

“Alright, look, I got hired by a Warden right? Same as you, taint and all, not a mighty hero though. No sir.” He laughed nervously, as the blade tightened across his throat. “Right, and he wanted to buy off this cargo I had… uhh procured earlier.”

“They are people asshole.” Isabela hissed.

“So, I sell them off, maybe the Warden wanted to conscript them. Better fate than slavery right? So I think, I win, the Warden wins and these slaves don’t get to be slaves no more.”

“You are an idiot Gelder.” Isabela

“What was the Warden’s name?” Aedan asked.

“Didn’t tell me a name, and I didn’t ask for one. But I know where he is, or at least where the cargo is going. He ought to be there, I can lead you there.”

“How about just tell me.”

“Alright, but promise right? I get to walk.”

“Promise. Now out with it.”

“Alright, we was to meet where the river falls into the Rift. Some miles off the waterfall there is an abandoned castle. That’s where I was supposed to go. That’s where your Warden will be, now let me go.”

“You done Warden?” Isabela asked.

“That depends on if Gelder has anything else important to tell me.” He looked to the nervous captain who was sweating bullets this whole time, shaking in his boots as he bargained for his life.

“Uhhh… I heard there were more than one Warden, he had a couple with him. An elf too, maybe some mages. Oh, they talked about the taint, the elf and the leader had an argument I overheard, got really heated. Look that’s all I got, can I go now?”

Aedan sighed, looking at Roberta, Isabela and back at the oarsmen still huddled on the other end. “Fine.”

“We can’t just let him go Warden, he has to be brought back to face justice.” Roberta protested.

“Gelder. I made no promises, you backstabbing little shit.” Isabela said quietly as she plunged a dagger into his lower back and slid the second dagger clean across his throat and pushed the bleeding captain into the river. “Well, that’s done.” She spat into the river where Gelder slowly sunk as the water around him turned red.

Aedan stood there in brief surprise, as Roberta snarled at the pirate. “You had no right to kill him. We could have brought him back, punishment for slavery would have been death.”

“Yeah, he’s dead. Problem solved.”

“That’s not the point you lying thief.” Roberta was red with anger.

“Lying pirate.” Isabela corrected.   
Aedan didn’t care as much as Roberta did, but this Gelder could have been useful. He thought to keep him around, see if he knew anything else but alas the pirate queen had other plans.

“Isabela...” He started speaking with disappointment in his voice.

“Do you want to waggle your tongues some more or maybe get those slaves free?” She pushed past Roberta’s  still drawn out sword and Aedan as she descended into the cargo space of the ship. The oarsmen flinched as she walked towards them and through the door.

“Relax kid, help me out with the crates will you?” Warden heard her say in a muffled voice from below the decks.

Aedan and Roberta had no choice but to follow. They helped Isabela open the sliding doors to the cargo area beyond the crew quarters. The whole room was filled with large crates stacked on top of each other, each had small holes drilled into them but no sound was coming from them.

“Shit, are they dead?” Isabela punched the dagger into the crate to pry it open, the others helped.

They opened up the crate to unveil a young man lying in hay, peacefully. Isabela prodded him to wake him but he did not awake. He was still breathing and seemingly alive but he could not awaken no matter what.

“Great.” Isabela sounded defeated. She kicked the other crates a couple of times shouting at them to wake up. “Well? Any ideas?”

“Is this some kind of magic?” Roberta looked at the warden.

“And I had you figured for a scholar.” Isabela quipped at the knight.

“Shut up murderer.”

“It’s not murder if he had it coming.”

“Yes.” Warden interrupted the bickering, “It’s probably magic, and if it is, then it’s blood magic. Now unless Gelder was a blood mage, Damon’s wardens did this when they hired him, and guess what, he could have told us more about it. Instead, he is feeding fish now.”

“If only I had your powers of foresight Warden. What’s done is done.” She pointed at the sleeping slave, “They certainly weren’t like that when I last saw them. Don’t you have some worldly knowledge about this Hero of Ferelden?”

“I should ask you. You consorted with a blood mage and an abomination.”

“Well, they didn’t share their trade secrets with me unfortunately.” She threw up her hands in the air, pacing about. “What the hell do I do now?” She asked rhetorically under her breath.

“The mage who did this could reverse it.” Aedan continued. “Luckily, Gelder told us where they are.”

“Before you murdered him.” Roberta snapped at Isabela who was pacing about, looking at the cryptic sleeping slaves in the now opened crates.

“Ok, we get it. I killed him, can we move past it?”

“She is right.” Aedan looked at Roberta, “We have more important things to do. These slaves… people are fine for now and can still be saved, besides now we know where the wardens are.”

_Finally, something concrete to follow up on._

“You’re right.” Roberta sighed, easing up on her tension. “It just doesn’t seem right.”

“You remind me of another mannish, awkward, ball-crushing do-gooder.” Isabela said.

“I am not awkward.” Roberta protested bitterly and walked out onto the deck urging the squire to follow her as Isabela chuckled.

 

They left the sleeping slaves alone, not knowing what to do with them and cleaned up the mess above deck. The remaining oarsmen were nervously compliant, having been hired only recently they had no idea of what just happened or why it did. They agreed to keep the boat going forward if they still got paid.

Gelder was as good as his word and there was indeed a small lockbox hidden in the railing under his cot. Isabela rifled through it and scoffed as she threw some papers overboard, counting the gold coins within it and pocketing them. Roberta glanced at her with disdain in her eyes once in a while as she paced the deck awkwardly as if on patrol. Warden sat at the front of the boat, looking out into the waters. He felt defeated and tired, despite the fact that he was on the right track and much closer to his goal than before. His quest for a cure suddenly hung over him like a heavy shadow all of a sudden as the thoughts and doubts filled his mind.

_What if these wardens don’t know anything useful? What if they don’t want to share? What if there is no bloody cure? What if, what if?_

Sometime later Isabela sat by him on the side of the boat as the clouds were turning pink and yellow from the rising sun over the stirring foliage of the shore.

“Hey.” She said crossing her legs and leaning her back against the railing. Warden glanced at her and smiled half-heartedly.

“Sorry about leaving back in the inn. I didn’t want to, you know…”

“Ask for help?” He finished her sentence.

“Something like that. Also trying to avoid awkwardness such as this.”

“You’re failing so far.” He said looking back into the shore. They sat there in silence for a minute until Isabela slouched into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes to get at least some sleep. Warden kept awake, thinking, watching.

 

The boat rowed steadily towards their destination as the rain clouds gathered in the distance, looked like a big storm was coming their way.

  
The next day they came across a split in the river. According to Devin’s maps this was where the river flowing down from the mountains split off into the Abyssal Rift and that was their destination.

_A ruined castle by the Abyssal Rift. It had to be one of the old Warden strongholds. Adamant was further north however, this would be a smaller castle, maybe an old fort just to keep watch over this part of the Rift._

The sails were lowered and with wind at their back they made their way down stream towards their destination.

Warden dosed off for a moment and when he opened his eyes he saw Isabela, still where she was but awake now, looking up with a soft smile on her face.

“You know, I woke up and the first I saw was the wind blowing in the sails. I thought I just woke up from a bad dream and was back on my ship.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Warden responded as he stretched and looked to see where they were.

Some grey, thick clouds were catching up to them now but the sun was still breaking through in between them, it was around noon it looked like.

“So why are you going after the Wardens? I get that your friend has a hard on for justice, what about you?”

The answer seemed obvious, yet he had to think about it.

“I just want to go back home.”

“Seems like a very roundabout way of doing it.” She looked out and said nothing for a while.

“I wanted to go back to someone I love. I still do I think, but here I am, in another mess once again. Maybe home isn’t for people like us.”

“Never thought I’d see you wax philosophical.”

“Shut up.” She said casually and got up to look ahead of where they were sailing.

 

The river was becoming more rapid and rocky, signaling the approach to the Abyssal Reach. The overgrowth along the edges of the river grew more twisted and dense, taking on darker shades of green, hiding the rays of the sun already blocked by the growing clouds.

Devin consulted his maps and figured that they must be close to the abandoned warden fort. Traveling the river, however, wasn’t an option any longer. The rocks and rapids closing to the waterfall would a boat this size apart.

They decided to go on foot, while making sure the rowers stayed put ashore; gold did the trick. Isabela asked to go along with them, she had to see it through; make sure the slaves are released. Devin was happy to have her along, seeing as the worldly pirate would no doubt be helpful in their mission, Roberta less so, she was as stubborn as a mule in her opinions but she could understand why Isabela wanted to come, and maybe even why she killed Gelder.

Aedan was anxious to get going. The closer he got to the rogue warden - to answers, the more he began doubting himself.

 

They spent a couple of days trudging through the overgrown riverbanks. Consulting the map was pointless as not many have ventured this far to explore and draw out the region, and what was known was of little help thanks to the ever-changing flora and time passage. The fort was said to be perched on a cliff just by the waterfall into the Reach and if so, all they had to do was follow the river.

The rainfall was getting stronger by the hour; cold, sharp and overpowering. The four travelers didn’t talk much; they were focused on getting to their destination for respective reasons.

 

The rain didn’t let down, but the overgrowth began clearing out and Roberta roused Aedan as she pointed ahead of her. Lightning illuminated the silhouette of an uneven castle, small in size, at the edge of a cracked horizon. They arrived.

Hiding out in the foliage they saw a silhouette of a man standing by a rock his size, holding a thick piece of cloth over his head stretched over the top of the rock.

“A lookout.” Roberta explained.

“Waiting for Gelder no doubt.” Isabela said.

“Gelder looks very much like Aedan in this weather, especially from afar.” The warden chimed in.

 And so it was decided. Aedan started trudging through the muck and dirt as the rain fell hard upon his shoulders towards the lone man near the rock. He raised his hand in a greeting manner.

The man repeated the motion hesitantly.

“Where’s the cargo?” He asked as the warden approached, not yet close enough to see his face.

_Should be hard for him to recognize me; hood up, rain pouring. Gotta get to him before he find out I’m not the dead man in the river. Hopefully I won’t have to kill him._

“Hey! Can you not hear me?”

Aedan mimicked a ‘can’t hear you’ with his hand and kept moving towards him. He was close enough now to see the man’s face. Rugged, specked with pock marks, tired.

“I said,” He repeated in a contained shout “Where is the cargo?”

“Where is Damon?” Aedan asked in return.

“That’s not how…” His eyes got wide. “Ah fuck.” He put two fingers to his lips to whistle, but couldn’t finish it as Aedan punched him in the face, catching his hand in between, making a soft crunch of finger bones and teeth snapping.

“You bwoke my fuckin teef.” The man grumbled through a bloody mouth.

Aedan grabbed by his broken hand and twisted it.

“I’ll have to kill you if you try to call for help again. How many of you are here?”

The man didn’t respond, instead going for his blade with his free hand. Aedan swiftly plunged a readied dagger into his opponents heart, twisting it as the man hit the dirt and blead out.

Aedan knelt over his dead body and began scanning his surroundings to see if anyone got alerted. His companions followed from the foliage seeing what had happened.

“Is he dead?” Roberta asked.

“He wasn’t in a helping mood.”

“What do we do now?” Isabela looked at the Warden as he got up.

“Sneak in and capture Damon if he is still here. Hopefully once we have him the rest will stand down. I can pull rank on them if I have to, see if they can be persuaded to surrender. Maybe… where’s Devin?” He looked at the two women as they looked at each other and then around them.

Lightning struck and Aedan saw a small framed silhouette groggily walking towards the fort, almost near the door. But it wasn’t the only thing he saw.

More silhouettes appeared around them. The sound of drawing blades.

“Shit. Go get the kid Warden. Me and Roberta will take care of these idiots.” Isabela shouted out.

He knew he had to leave them to get to the kid, didn’t make it any easier running from a fight. He looked to Roberta.

“Make sure Damon is alive. I have to bring him back.” She drew her sword and shield “We will see you inside.”

 

He ran past the surrounding wardens, parrying their swings and stabs, clumsily managing to keep his footing in the slick dirt as he bee-lined it towards the fort.

The clang of weapons behind him grew dimmer through the rain as he reached the entrance to the fort past a set of ruined steps up the small hill. The wooden door was rotted and torn with small holes, but closed.

_I saw the kid go up here, did he not go through? Something doesn’t seem right._

There was no time to second guess. He opened the door with a sluggish creek and peeked inside to see a large chamber, luckily unmolested by rain. A lantern on a table barely illuminated the space from the middle of the chamber. A man stood at the table, looking down as if reading something. He wore a long, rugged white coat, padded with leather armor on arms and shoulders, stained with dirt and water near the feet. He turned around to look at the intruder. His hair was long to match his beard, like a lion’s mane but black as pitch.

“I honestly didn’t think Clarel wanted me dead this bad.” He was seemingly unarmed, but his sword was laying on the table behind him now, within arms reach. Aedan scanned the room, almost not paying attention to the man in front of him as he continued to address the visitor. “What did she tell you? That we killed innocents? Stole vital documents? Or, ah yes, my favorite: turned our backs on the order and everything we stand for. I can’t tell you what to do, but you might find my side of the story very illuminating, so stay your blade. We can be cordial.” He spread his arms in a peaceful manner.

“I am looking for my squire.” Aedan focused his eyes on the man now.

“He is right here.” The black bearded man calmly responded and extended his hand to a shadowy corner of the room from which Devin emerged, slowly and awkwardly as if drunk.

“Devin?” Aedan asked cautiously.

Another figure emerged from the shadows behind the squire as he had a shocked and puzzled look on his face, looking in no particular direction. An elven woman in dark blue robes, tattered and weathered from travels and a large pointed hood resting on her shoulders. Her face was painted n valasslin and hair was silvery blonde, pulled back in a tight ponytail.

_Velanna. Of all the fucking warden mages. I thought she had died, after her travels into the Deep Roads. She wanted to find her sister, rescue her. Why the hell is she here?_

She spoke up, “Your squire is a hostage now. If you do anything stupid I will make sure he dies before you do. So you better listen to what we have to say.”

The dark haired man, interrupted, shaking his hand calmingly at Velanna. “Now now, we don’t want to threaten our pursuer. We _are not_ savages, even if Clarel would paint us so. The kid is simply an insurance, I am sure we can come to an understanding. If I had wished to kill you two and your friends outside I would have given the order to do so. There is still hope that you come around, see things for what they truly are. In these trying times, we Wardens must stick together and make sure leaders like Clarel do not lead us astray and into certain death.”

Velanna was staring at the Warden with a mysterious look. Whether she was thoughtful, angry or whatever else he could not tell. It was hard to tell on a good day, but now, this woman was a mystery even more so.

_Why is she not telling him who I am?_

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Aedan responded to the man. “Why is Clarel after you Damon?”

He smiled politely. “You are Fereldan, like myself. Our home was hit the hardest during the last blight, we know what it means to fight for survival, what toll it takes on us. And now this, this Calling. I know you heard it too. We all did. You know the funny thing? I hear it less and less the further away from Clarel I am. That and Velanna’s magic; but magic, no matter how powerful, can’t stop the Calling.”

“Are you implying Clarel is behind this Calling?”

“She mobilized all the Wardens she could to look for a bloody Archdemon. Made a deal with Tevinter. Cut us off from the rest of the world and left them in the dark.” He sighed, as he composed himself, trying to conceal the obvious anger.

“She has always been power hungry.” He continued in a calmer tone. “I am only disappointed most of my brothers and sisters could not see through her play.”

“And is that why you cut your bloody way to the end of nowhere, using slaves for blood magic? Far as I can see you are not that much different from Clarel.”

Damon sighed. “Perhaps. I can see you hold no lover for her either. If so, what is it that brings you here? Is it duty?” He said that word as if it was a joke to him.

Aedan glanced at the stack of dozens of books next to the table. “Information.”

Damon cocked his head. “You are not her bloodhound are you?”

 

Sound of footsteps started coming from the outside, behind the Warden.

_I hope it’s them._

He stepped back, cautiously putting a hand on the pommel of his sword. Two men in warden armor entered the room, slamming the doors open, one of them holding onto a wound on his abdomen. Aedan saw shadows dance in the rain outside for a brief moment before the wind swung the door closed again.

Aedan drew his sword, positioning himself in a stance to see the men at the door and Daemon.

The rogue warden began pacing to position Aedan in between himself and his soldiers with a sword in his hand now.

“It occurs to me you are not who I believe you were.” He looked to Velanna. “Kill the kid.”

_Not after all we have been through Velanna. Don’t betray me now._

No words could escape his mouth as she looked to her former commander with a regretful look, that quickly turned to steely eyed determination. A look he remembered from when he first met her.

Velanna raised her bloody hand and snapped her fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a lot of fun writing this one. Really happy with the conclusion of the chapter. For some reason writing Isabela comes very naturally to me :D, not sure if it comes across right for everyone else.   
> Really excited to get into the next part of the story, see where it goes.


	7. The Memory

She opened her eyes lazily and wiped the hair from her face. Her hand instinctively reached behind her to find him on the bed but it was met by crumpled bedsheets. She shifted up lazily, one eye still closed as she adjusted to the morning light.   
The room was empty and the curtains were waving by the open window.   
She walked up to the tall mirror, pouting at her bedraggled hair as she turned side to side observing her bare body.  
You’re getting older.  
Every imperfection, every change somehow made it to the forefront of her attention. She couldn’t help it.   
She combed her short red hair neatly and threw on his shirt that hung loosely off her shoulders, which vaguely amused her.

As she walked barefoot through the cottage she began hearing a faint sound. Someone was sharpening a blade.

As she stepped into the sun, feet brushing up against the grass, she saw Aedan sitting on a chair overlooking the valley and the small town on the shore. He wasn’t looking at the beautiful sunrise however, or the sea, his head was focused on the sword in his hand as he dragged the whetstone along it with precision.  
He has been having the nightmares again.  
“Should I run and grab my bow? It looks like you are preparing for another Blight.” She said cocking her head to see his face.  
Aedan turned to look up at her with a warm smile on his face. “I think I got it. You would just get in the way.” He kept looking at her with that sly smile, eliciting a reaction.  
She didn’t let up, only cracking a grin and an eyeroll in response as she crashed in his lap putting an arm around his shoulders, forcing him to put the sword to the side. He likes that.  
“You are a big jerk.”   
“And you are a small jerk.” He nuzzled his face to hers, she giggled. “Good morning Nightingale.”  
Nightingale. He enjoys teasing me with that way too much.  
“I’m just Leliana here, Warden Commander.”  
He smiled briefly and looked ahead at the rising sun. She studied his face for a while in silence. It was hard to read him sometimes. At times it seemed he was happy and content, and the next moments it appeared as if the weight of the world hung from his shoulders. They had been through a lot together and separately, so she understood that part, but not the part of being a warden. He had told her a lot about it; the dreams, the duty, the Calling… a looming shadow that grew over them.  
I have to hope for his sake.  
She wanted to spend some time with him before they were pulled back to their duties, just the two of them. 

“Alright I’ll say it.” He spoke up. “We have to return on the next morning.” He said it in a humorous tone, but the melancholy was obvious.  
“I don’t want to leave either.”  
“…But we have to.” He finished her sentence.  
Leliana smiled coyly. “I wasn’t going to say that.”  
Well, we should make the most of our day Nightingale.” He arched his eyebrows at her with that puppy look he loved to make at her, and picked her up in both arms.   
She giggled as he did. “I will come up with an animal to call you by the end of the day, I don’t think Hero of Fereldan works anymore.”  
“Don’t think you will have much time for thinking in a moment.” He nuzzled his face in her chest pecking kisses and tickling her nose with his hair.   
“I am a great multitasker.”   
He carried her into the house and she closed the door behind him.

Come afternoon, they were walking the cobbled streets of Ciela, the small town and the only one on the island. He was wearing a silly hat he bought on a whim when they arrived and seemed awfully proud of just how silly he looked in it. She wore a simple long dress and finely embroidered red shoes on high heels, with a little golden flower pinned on the ankle strap. They looked too gaudy to be walking around a town such as this, but she loved the way they felt so she wore a long dress to cover them. She was the only one who knew of those beautiful shoes and that was enough for her.

The townspeople never bothered them overmuch, even if they did know who they were. They were simple, happy people who probably have never seen the rest of the world beyond the Waking Sea. Leliana loved telling them stories she had gathered from her travels: different cultures, different people, outlandish events; she smiled every time they had a wide-eyed look of wonder on their faces.   
She heard their tales as well, even if common, she needed to hear them to know their lives. As a Nightingale she spent her life learning the game and high society. Left hand of the Divine had to know the people: the poor, the rich, the faithful, the sinners, the forgotten and the downtrodden. She had to know them in order to give advice to the Divine. Without perspective we become selfish tyrants.

Even with all the knowledge she struggled with foresight; to know what was the right decision or answer when she was asked. Sometimes she felt envious of how easy it seemed for Aedan. She knew he second guessed himself but he never wavered when it came down to it. Even when he made mistakes, he never gave up faith in himself and people around him. That was what she admired about him the first they met in Lothering, why she followed him.

They had lunch at their favorite tavern.  
“… it really is unbelievable how he finds time to send letters for advice this far away from Denerim. Do you think he actually waits for the response before making a decision?”  
She smiled. “I hope not. Otherwise the entirety of Fereldan would sink into the sea without your sage advice.”  
“Sarcasm suits me better.”  
“Well, maybe he just misses you.”  
He looked at her and arched his eyebrow. “Maybe he misses you.”  
“Well there was this one time, back when we were searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes…”  
“What now?”  
She giggled. “You are so jealous.”  
“Am not. Which one of us is the lucky one is still up for debate.”  
Leliana rolled her eyes. “You know Alistair did have a crush on me. I was trained to know these things. But he had too much respect for both of us to act on it.”  
She had never told him that. Never seemed important, but he had a lack of surprise on his face when she did.  
“You knew?”  
“You girls aren’t the only ones who gossip.” He said with that smug smile on his face.  
“I think you have a great talent for embarrassing me.” She said, nudging him in the shoulder as he chuckled.  
They sat silently for a while, looking at each other, sipping their drinks. Him with a silly smile on his face that matched his silly hat. They were on the porch of the tavern where it was more private and less rowdy than the inside as more people started coming in.  
They spent the rest of the time reminiscing about the past. Even though the Blight had conjured many terrors and tragedies, they chose to remember the quieter days, the moments that kept them from despair. They rarely talked about the past like this, but Leliana wanted to remind him what he was fighting for, to keep him going and not lose faith as the cracks grew on him. 

He needs other people to keep him going, he needs me. He never tied himself to any belief short of in those close to him. As he builds them up, if they fall, they would fall on him. I brought him to meet Divine Justinia, and he saw who she was, who I think she is. 

I haven’t told him I will return to her side after this.

He will think I abandoned him, but the Divine needs me more than he does. Not just her, mages, templars, the faithful. If only he knew, if only he cared.   
As much as I love him, I can be of no help with what he is going through.

They walked down to the beach as the sky turned pink in the sunset. A family with two kids walked by them on their way back to the town. The boy and girl giggled as they ran ahead of their parents, racing each other. She smiled but it made her feel wistful. Leliana looked at Aedan but he didn’t make eye contact, knowingly or not.   
Her mind wandered to Morrigan. As much as she respected her and was thankful to her, there was bitterness and envy every time she thought of the witch that she could never quite shake off. He never spoke of her and she never brought her up either.  
Envy. You are better than that. You know better.

He found a lonely washed up log on the beach where they sat, tide rolling in and barely avoiding their feet.   
“This feels like the end.” Aedan broke the silence. He sounded somber and remorseful. She looked at him with a worried look on her face she couldn’t quite hide.  
“Don’t think like that. Once you find the cure, we will return here one day.” She looked at the sun sinking into the sea. “The sun will rise again tomorrow and again when we sit here together, years from now. Two little rascals running about, splashing in the water. Me telling them it’s getting late and you letting them stay just for a bit longer, because you always have to be the good guy.” She smiled a genuine smile, resting her head on his shoulder. Leliana closed her eyes.  
“I can hear them already. Giggling, splashing around. ‘Daddy tell us how you defeated an ogre again!’ And you get up and roar like the big dummy you are and start chasing them around.” She giggled and opened her eyes as he rested his head on hers.  
“I always loved your tales.”  
Tide rolled in and touched her toes. They watched the sunset in content silence. The water was soon covering their feet and hitting up against the log.  
“I think it’s a weasel.” Leliana said.  
“A weasel?”  
“Yes. You are a weasel.” She announced proudly.  
“You think I am a weasel.” He snorted. “I don’t know how you will recover from this one.”  
“It only seems like an insult if you don’t know any weasels. I kept one as a kid. She was a fierce thing, used to bite at first but I treated her well and she came to like me. I used to feed her candied grapes until I was told that it’s not good for them. She was always skulking around eyes peeled and ears perked, jumping from shelf to shelf. Sometimes, she would run off for an entire day and come back with a small bird she had hunted down and placed it in front of me proudly. I felt sad and angry for a while but I understood it later.”  
“At the risk of sounding a bit thick, I don’t see the similarities.”  
“Yes you do. You like to pretend that you don’t but you always see things most miss. You listen when others would talk.”  
She thought of the chantry sister back in Lothering, her fears, insecurities, her dreams. She thought of the warden she had met who found her, who found strength in her she hadn’t known was there. She thought of how they both grew into the people they were now, lifting each other off their backs, and she thought of her duty.  
“You will find what you are looking for and I will be there when you return.”

“What happened to the weasel?”  
“She lived a happy life.”

They sat on the beach as the water washed their feet and the sun sunk into the sea.


End file.
